A World of Wolves and Men
by Ace0fwands
Summary: ***AU Wolfstar retelling of Hadestown*** This is not a happy story. This is an old story about devotion. And loss. And one man's love for another.
1. Chapter 1: Road to Hell

Chapter One: Road to Hell

_It's an old song. It's an old tale from way back when. It's an old song. And we're gonna sing it again._

This is not a happy story.

This is not a story where the bad guys are defeated.

If there are bad guys, I don't know who they are.

This is an old story about devotion. And loss.

It takes place in a world different—perhaps—from the one you know. A world of wolves and men. There is no Dark Lord seeking power—only packs of hungry wolves, howling at the gates. A king's fight to turn the world. One man's love for another. The lengths we go to save each other. And all the things we lose.

Allow me introduce you to everyone.

First, the wolves:

You see those scrappy, feral kids in the distance? The one with hollow eyes and fleas in their hair? There are three of them, three girls—one is tall, the other broad, and the last one is small but the most dangerous of the lot. They're known as the Fated Ones. They've been with the pack since the beginning, never growing old, never changing. They're vicious—to men and wolves alike. They'll sniff out any weakness—an insecurity, a mistake you made ten years ago, the shame you harbor too deep down to speak— and whisper it in your ear until there's nothing left of you but doubt. Any time you walk down a dark alleyway and feel the hair on your neck rise—that's them.

Within the pack, one stands above the rest. Her name is Ylva. I couldn't tell you how old she is: maybe fifteen, maybe thirty. Sometimes she's seen by the king's side—sometimes she's as far away as she can get. Once or twice, I've seen her live among humans. She's as powerful as the rest of them—let me tell you that—even if she has a compassionate streak. If anything, that makes her more dangerous.

And of course, Fenrir Greyback is the king. The ultimate alpha. It doesn't matter who turned you, all trails lead to him. He started this business. Founded the dream of turning the world into one big wolf pack, one bite at a time.

As for the men—the wizards and witches of this world live in fear. Their lives are hard and their work harder. There may be no dark wizards, but with wolves around every corner, nothing and no one is safe.

And at the center of all of this is none other than Sirius Black. This poor boy left his family as a kid, and spent half his time in a daydream, working to end the reign of wolves—doing everything he could to bring the world back to how it was. Imagining a better future.

And finally… Remus Lupin, the last of our heroes. He lived on the road—always hungry, always looking for a safe place to land. And he almost found one too.

But like I said before—this is not a happy story.

As for me, I'm something in between. Neither wolf, nor man. Somewhere and someone entirely different. I made plenty of bad choices that led me to where I am. I made plenty of mistakes. But somebody has to tell the story.

My name is Regulus Black.

Let us, then, begin.


	2. Chapter 2: Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter Two: Any Way the Wind Blows

_And there ain't a thing that you can do when the weather takes a turn on you 'cept for hurry up and hit the road._

The wolves always howled loudest right before the dawn broke. Sirius laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. It was only fifteen minutes before he had to get ready for his shift. Usually, he would try to fall back asleep, eke out every minute of rest he could get. But today, he knew he wouldn't be able to. Not with the wolves.

Last night had been the full moon.

They must have had a successful hunt.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Sirius pushed himself out of bed, scratching his messy, shoulder length hair. Last night, exhausted from a long night training, he'd fallen asleep in his clothes. Now, it was proving more convenient than he'd imagined. He sniffed his armpits. Good enough.

He'd get to the coffee shop early. Give himself some time and caffeine to wake up before any customers arrived.

So he brushed his teeth hurriedly, shoved his feet into his boots, and slung his leather jacket over his shoulder. He rushed down the stairs, careful to avoid one of his landlady's many cats who had made herself comfortable on the banister. He got all the way to the landing, before realizing he had forgotten his wand and running back upstairs to get it.

Times were hard. It wasn't safe to step foot outside without a weapon these days.

The morning air bit. He shook out his limbs and glared at the rising sun. He liked his job, but the waking up before dawn was a thing of pure evil.

Once he was safely in a remote alleyway, Sirius turned on the spot and Disapparated. He longed to have a living situation where he could Disapparate from his bedroom, get that extra five minutes of sleep, but the old Mrs. Figg, whose house he rented a room in, always complained about the noise.

Sirius appeared a second later outside of Orpheus Coffee. Just as he was rummaging for the key to unlock it, he noticed the bolt wasn't latched.

He tightened his grip on his wand. It wasn't uncommon for the werewolves to break into wizarding businesses and trash the place. Especially not on the full moon. Who knew what he would find on the other side of the door? Not, he hoped, the wolves themselves. But he had to be ready for anything. Just two months ago, Florian Fortescue had been ambushed in his shop in broad daylight. Sirius had seen the wreckage himself—the blood smeared across the tubs of ice cream, the shattered windows. He didn't know whether Florian had been killed, or if he'd been turned.

He didn't know what was worse.

Sirius took a steadying breath and pushed open the door, wand at the ready.

There were no wolves inside.

Instead, sat an old man with a long silver beard, drinking a hot chocolate while he serenely read the Daily Prophet.

"You're late," Dumbledore said without looking up.

"You're early."

Dumbledore took a long sip from his mug instead of answering.

Scowling, Sirius flicked his wand to turn on the lights. Nothing happened. His eyes twinkling, Dumbledore pulled his Deluminator from his pocket and clicked it. The shop lit at once.

Sirius rolled his eyes, throwing his jacket in the back room and tying on his apron. Dumbledore never could resist showing off.

Orpheus Coffee was a chaotic place, stuffed full of armchairs and sofas and frilly decorative lamps. With only a tiny window over the door, it had the air of perpetual twilight. It was one of the few wizarding businesses in London outside of Diagon Alley. Right near Holborn, it wasn't far away—but far enough to have its own crowd of regulars.

Sirius started the first round of filter coffee brewing. "You helped yourself, I see," he said, nodding at Dumbledore's mug.

"I used the last of the whole milk. I hope you don't mind."

Of course Sirius minded. Madam Marsh would have a conniption fit if she couldn't have her usual full fat kid's temp cappuccino. Sirius said a silent prayer for the dairy delivery to arrive before Madam Marsh did. He would have demanded that Dumbledore magic the hot chocolate back into its constituent parts, but it wasn't worth agitating the old man—he tipped too well.

Plus, there were other factors to consider.

"Did you hear the wolves last night?" Dumbledore asked blandly.

Sirius shook his head as he pulled a triple shot of espresso for himself. "Of course I heard them," he said. "Would have to be deaf to miss it."

"They were celebrating." Dumbledore gave him a grim look. "A new recruit."

Sirius took a sip of his coffee, bitterness flooding him. "Recruit is an awfully light way to put it, don't you think?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Dumbledore only shrugged. "Not to Greyback's pack. They think they're doing that poor soul a favor." As lightly as Dumbledore was speaking, he could have been talking about the weather or the recent Chudley Cannon's loss, all the while ignoring the rage steadily building in Sirius. "Imagine," Dumbledore went on, "a world only of werewolves. Super human strength. No laws. A life that's totally free—"

"IT'S NOT FREE!"

A shelf of mugs exploded behind Sirius with the force of his anger. Neither of them reacted to the shards of ceramic that flew through the air.

Sirius took another sip of coffee, fuming. "Their promises are a lie," he said when he could finally speak. "They say their way is better—that it's a truer way of life. But all it brings is destruction. Regulus—"

But here, Sirius could not continue. Grief wracked him, tugging at his heart like a weight. And the guilt was even worse. It tied him in knots. He stared down at the counter, gripping it so hard his knuckles turned white.

I knew how he was feeling, all too well. If only he'd been a better brother… If only.

What Sirius didn't understand was that nothing he could have done would have prevented it all from unfolding.

He could never have saved me.

Sirius shut his eyes and took a long breath. Then he waved his wand and the broken mugs flew back onto the shelves—as perfect as if they'd been there all along. "They prey on the innocent," he finally said. "They lie."

Dumbledore surveyed the cafe: the golden light, the buttery pastries that Sirius had piled high in the display, the gleam of the espresso machine. "My dear boy, of course they lie," he said. "That is why our mission is so crucial. We need parley with the werewolves. I believe that we can put an end to this, but we need somebody on the inside. Those who are innocent, as you say, we must help. And the perpetrators, we need to stop. We can avenge your brother."

Sirius shut his eyes. "It's too late for him. He's gone."

"But his death doesn't have to be in vain," Dumbledore said simply.

Sirius stared at the counter. He had lost too much. Every day, he worked like a dog to help Dumbledore execute his plans, but what could would those plans do, in the end? How many people would have to die, or become a werewolf, before this ended? After a long pause, Sirius said, "I don't understand why all this will help."

Dumbledore got to his feet, tucking his newspaper under his arm. "You don't understand?" He waved his wand and sent his empty mug flying across the cafe and into the sink. "An Animagus will be safe with the wolves in animal form. You may be able to infiltrate their ranks. You could get through to some of them."

"Or fight them," Sirius said darkly. Privately, he suspected that was what Dumbledore wanted.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "I hope it does not come to that. But if it does, I know you will be able to hold your own. You are one of the most gifted students I have ever had the pleasure of teaching." He crossed to the counter, and leaned against it, staring at Sirius head on. "You have the predisposition to transform—it is, after all, not an easy skill to master. And you have the strength. And the—ah—" Dumbledore tapped the counter, thinking, before finally settling on, "The personal connection."

That was a polite way of putting it. Sirius finished wiping down the counter and threw the rag back down onto its hook.

"Which is why we must redouble our efforts," Dumbledore went on. "It's crucial to get you an audience with Greyback as soon as possible. Next month if we can."

"There is no way," Sirius said incredulously. They trained for eight hours on top of his eight hour shift at the coffee shop. Sirius was getting the hang of the elements of transformation—but it was a tricky skill to learn. Plus, Animagus transformation was dangerous, even at the best of times. Rushing it could have disastrous consequences.

"We'll have to find a way," said Dumbledore. "I'm afraid that soon the victims of Fenrir Greyback's regime will be too many to count."

The bell over the door rang to signal a new customer. Sirius turned, exasperated, expecting Madam Marsh, expecting to be yelled at for only having two percent milk to offer—even though they weren't even officially open yet.

But it wasn't Madam Marsh at all.

Sirius gripped his mug of espresso so hard he almost broke it.

The person who came in was a stranger—with sweeping brown hair and deep, melancholy eyes. He was windswept, with a battered old robe and weary expression. He was, Sirius knew without a doubt, the most beautiful man he had ever seen.


	3. Chapter 3: Come Home with Me

Chapter Three: Come Home with Me

_He's not like any man you've met._

Without a doubt, that was the most beautiful cup of coffee Remus had ever seen. The barista had a triple shot nestled in the palm of his calloused hand. And after a long ride on the Knight Bus, Remus could think of nothing better than a sweet jolt of caffeine.

He fumbled with his gold on his way to the counter—uncaring, totally oblivious to the fact that the barista was looking at him as though he were a meal.

Reader, Remus Lupin was many things—kind, tough, loving—but perceptive was not one of them.

"I'll have what you're having," Remus said, dropping a Sickle on the counter.

Sirius only gaped at him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Remus jumped—he hadn't noticed the old man was there. "Well, I'll be off then." Dumbledore pulled on his pointed wizard's hat and inclined his head at Sirius. "I'll see you this afternoon." Then with a sideways glance at Remus, he turned back to Sirius and added, "Play it cool."

In normal circumstances, Sirius Black was nothing _but_ cool. It radiated off him in waves. He could get caught picking his nose and still manage to make it look edgy. Yet here, faced with this beautiful stranger, all he could do was stare, slack jawed.

"Um, my espresso?" Remus tried again, an edge of impatience in his voice.

"Right." Sirius slid the coin into the till and busied himself at the espresso machine. The anger, shame and guilt from mere moments ago had dissipated. In their place was something shining and hot—a hand clutching a red carnation. Sirius knew he was attracted to this stranger. That was obvious. What he didn't know was that he was feeling the first stirring of true love.

When he finally slid the espresso across the counter to Remus, he seemed to steel himself. He gathered up that thread of courage, and said, "Will you be my plus one at a wedding?"

Remus froze with his mug halfway to his lips. "Excuse me?"

Sirius apparently did not realize his blunder and barreled on. "My best mate, James—he's getting married at the new moon. It will be a casual thing, really—but they said I can bring a date and—"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me to be your date?"

Sirius had finally found some of his old confidence. With one hand hooked in his pocket, he ran the other through his long hair, and gave Remus his best devil-may-care smirk. "Maybe I am."

Remus turned to his coffee, his cheeks growing pink. After a pause, he said, "Do I get to know your name first?"

Sirius hopped onto the counter and sat—breaking at least five health regulations, I may add—but he knew his charm was having the desired effect. "I'm Sirius."

Remus regarded him dryly. "I'm serious too." He took a prudish sip of coffee. "Now tell me your name."

Now, when you live for twenty five years with the name Sirius Black, that joke gets old. But Remus's dry delivery—or, let's face it—his endless eyes and perfect ass—made Sirius bark out a laugh. One he would have never given to anyone else.

"Sirius Black." He held out his hand. The bell over the door tinkled, but neither of them paid it any attention.

Remus only stared at Sirius, something shifting in his eyes. "I'm Remus."

Sirius misunderstood the hesitation and pulled his hand back. Ran it through his hair to play it easy. "Cool name, Remus. Anyone ever call you Remy?"

"Once," Remus said. He stirred his coffee, his face expressionless. "He's dead now."

Sirius laughed. Remus tried to play it cool, lift an eyebrow and smirk—but let's face it—he was never as smooth as Sirius: something in him swelled as Sirius laughed at his joke. And as the two of them held each other's gaze, they both knew they were done for.

"Sirius, dear?" came Madam Marsh's frail little voice from behind the pastry case. "My cappuccino?"

Sirius swore.

Madam Marsh looked scandalized.

Remus stayed for the entire morning rush, nursing his last sip of espresso, as if Sirius would kick him out if he actually finished it. He sat on a fraying armchair, tucked into a corner, with a view of the counter and—most importantly—of Sirius. A tall, dainty lamp glowed next to him, casting his sandy hair in a golden light.

Remus had never seen a place like Orpheus Coffee. Most of his haunts were tough, industrial places, abandoned wolf dens, worn down from years of use and tussles. They were safe places to hide. Joyless, but what did that matter when there were wolves on your tail?

What had brought him to the cafe that morning? Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was the inexplicable tension that tugged at him like a magnet whenever he looked at Sirius. Remus watched him now, overwhelmed with a feeling he didn't have the words for.

Sirius worked like a dog. He was the only barista on call. Remus had seen a lot of terrible things in his young life, but only keeping one person on staff for the rush of uncaffeinated magical folks coming in for their hit of coffee and sugar was downright cruel. He felt a stab of resentment at the boss on Sirius's behalf.

He was enamored by the strong curve of Sirius's back, the flex of his bicep as he poured latte art. Sirius had an easy way with people, Remus noticed. He could charm even the most persnickety customer. Even when the line stretched out the door, Sirius managed to keep everyone entertained with a good natured joke and a devilish wink. Remus could only admire that.

Maybe a little more than admire.

Let me tell you about Remus Lupin. The man was marked by tragedy. He lived on the move—never staying in one place for more than a few nights.

When he was a boy, his father got on the wrong side of Fenrir Greyback—made the wrong comment at the wrong time. So the wolves tore apart his family. They killed his father. They killed his mother. They tried to kill Remus—but he got away. His mother had heard them coming, and rushed Remus to the bins outside. Just as Remus disappeared from view, the wolves caught sight of his mother.

And the poor boy had to hunch, huddled in the garbage, never making a peep. Not while he listened to his mother's screams. Not while his father cried out, and then fell deadly silent.

Once the wolves had finally gone, Remus waited another three hours, then—finally, agonizingly, crawled out.

He saw his mother's body first. His brain could not process the sight—the sheer gore of it.

Then he walked by what was left of his father.

Remus didn't let himself cry. He had been protected for seven years of childhood. That was longer than some kids had. Now, he was learning what the world was like—and in the real world, there was no time for crying. Not when the wolves had your scent.

So, Remus reached into his father's robes and took his wand. He was too young to have his own—his father always said he would buy him one on his eleventh birthday, a celebration he would now never get. Armed and alone, Remus went on the run.

He was scrappy. He was hungry. He couldn't hide his tender heart behind an air of toughest for the life of him.

As a kid, he'd bonded with other kids orphaned by wolves—and they'd found safety in numbers. For a time, at least. Eventually, he was betrayed by someone he thought was a friend. Cowardly Peter Pettigrew sold him to the wolves up in Birmingham—and Remus went solo once more.

He lived his whole life looking over his shoulder. The wolves were dangerous for anyone—they would attack anyone. But Remus had a sneaking suspicion—one he never told anyone—that they were after him especially.

Of course, he was not wrong.

And that was how he lived all these years. Never getting a formal education. Never having the same roof over his head more than a couple nights in a row. Never having a friend or family to call his own.

Remus never thought he'd settle down anywhere.

And he certainly never thought he would fall in love.


	4. Chapter 4: Wedding Song

Chapter Four: Wedding Song

_Lover, tell me, when we're wed, who's gonna make the wedding bed? Times being what they are, hard and getting harder all the time._

Sirius got through his shift somehow—keeping one eye on Remus and one on the long line of customers. Twice, Sirius pulled Remus an extra double shot and surreptitiously carried it to his table. Both times, Remus fished in his pocket for silver—and both times, Sirius place a hand on his wrist to stop him.

Their eyes met. Sirius could feel Remus's pulse pick up in his wrist. He felt the same way. He could look into that dark brown gaze forever.

He didn't know what had gotten into him. Sirius had flirted with plenty of people—he'd slept with more than he'd like to count. But he'd never felt this way before. He'd never seen straight through someone's soul—and known at once they were for him. This was not a casual attraction. This wasn't even a deep infatuation. It was something else. Something too deep to name.

It was almost as though he knew Remus—from another world, another life.

Finally, after the lunch rush died down, Marlene came to relieve him. As she scrubbed her hands, she raised her blond eyebrows and casually asked, "So who's the new guy?"

Sirius coughed. "What guy?"

Marlene gave him her most withering look. "Oh, hm, let me think—the guy who has been staring at you nonstop for the last five minutes?"

Sirius dropped the saucer he was drying. It shattered with a crash. Heat rushed to his cheeks, but he tried to play it cool—ran a hand through his hair and only glanced at Remus for the briefest of moments. "I don't know what you mean. He's just a customer."

Marlene rolled her eyes. "You can't fool me, Black." Laughing, she threw a dish towel at him. "I'm the resident expert in all things gay romance."

"Oh yeah?" Sirius said, throwing the dish towel right back at her. "When are you finally going to introduce me to one of your girlfriends?"

"Honestly you think I have a harem or something?" Marlene asked. She moved herself in front of the till, keeping one eye on a pair of new customers who'd just walked in. "I'm the most virtuous lesbian you know. "

"You're the only lesbian I know."

"And what a shame for you." Marlene lowered her voice and stage-whispered, "Now go take him home."

Sirius didn't need to be told twice. He rushed over to where Remus sat and leaned against the top of his arm chair.

Remus looked up at him, his eyes round as Galleons. He couldn't help noticing how amazing Sirius smelled: like cloves and old leather.

"You done with that?" Sirius asked, peering at his three empty mugs.

"Erm—I was going to—"

"Let me." Sirius waved his wand wordlessly and all three mugs flew to the sink. Then, he tucked his hands in his back pocket, and bit his lip while he surveyed Remus. Sirius knew this was his most irresistible look. That no one he'd ever flirted with had been able to resist this.

And Remus was no exception.

Sirius smirked. "Want to go for a walk?"

Remus only nodded. And as he rose, brushing hands with Sirius, he didn't notice the ravenous look on Sirius's face.

And neither of them noticed Marlene rolling her eyes at both of them.

London was grey as always. Fog rolled off the river, creeping up the banks. Sirius and Remus walked across Blackfriars Bridge, their elbows occasionally bumping.

What was there to say? Between them was a tension as taught as a bow string. Nothing either of them could say would be enough. The heaviness of their destiny hung between them. They were made for each other—and somehow, without words, they both knew it.

In another world, in another story, these two boys had years together. They would meet as kids, and build a home, a family. In another life, they had a happily ever after.

But this is not that story.

The tension was too much for Sirius. Foolhardy as always, he hopped onto the thin railing at the edge of the bridge. No Muggle could have balanced on it. Magic alone kept Sirius aloft. He tiptoed across it like it was a tightrope, the long fall to the water just inches away.

Remus blanched at the sight. He looked away, then resolved himself to not be a coward, and turned back to watch it unfold. Sirius cut an impressive figure, so high above the water. Framed by the grey sky, the dark water below, the buildings tall behind him, he looked like something impossible—something out of a story. Remus clenched his hands in fists, trying not to imagine the single misstep that would send Sirius plummeting, trying to have faith that it would all turn out.

He wasn't wrong to worry. Sirius Black was a good person, but his reckless streak made his every step a balancing act. He kept one foot in death's door: he loved the rush. And he had not yet learned the consequences for such brashness.

There would be time for that later.

Sirius had an easy, loping grace that Remus could only marvel at. His face had been chiseled by tragedy—his grey eyes were clouded with ghosts.

That was part of what made Remus pine for him. He knew what it was like to live with a tragedy. He knew was it was like to be haunted.

"Tell me, Sirius," he said, watching the curl of his long hair against his shoulder, the curve of his wrist. "If I come to this wedding with you, what am I going to wear?"

All Remus had were the clothes on his back. An oversized sweater and weather-beaten robe. He would have told Sirius that—but he knew he didn't even have to. Sirius knew the signs of a life marked by wolves. Sirius hopped back onto the bridge and looked Remus up and down in an appraising sort of way.

"I don't have much," he finally said. "But I have enough to lend you something."

"Are you going to make me into a punk?"

"No need to sound so disgusted," Sirius laughed. "You couldn't look punk if your life depended on it."

If Remus was offended, he didn't show it. And Sirius had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't offended.

"I'll make you look great. I promise."

Cars bustled past them. The pair watched the Muggles pass—clueless as ever. Surely they could hear the solves. Surely they felt the world changing under their feet—the losses they sustained by scores. The world was very different from when Sirius and Remus were kids.

They reached the edge of the bridge. Remus stared at Sirius's hand, wanting so badly to grab it—to entwine their fingers and never let go.

Instead, he said, "And if I go to this wedding, what gift can I bring?" They turned right, and climbed down a set of stone steps, to walk along the south bank. "I don't have any money—except enough to buy a triple espresso."

Sirius gave him a confident smile. There were too many Muggles around to show off—buskers playing accordions and violins, beggars hunched against the cold, tourists wandering the well worn path along the river. But that didn't mean he had nothing to brag about.

This was Sirius Black, after all.

"I just so happen," Sirius said, "to be a prodigy of Transfiguration. Any thing you can imagine, I can conjure from thin air."

Remus quirked his brow. They walked past the Oxo tower, shoulders bumping as a crowd of tourists jostled them. "A master of Transfiguration, huh?"

Sirius made great effort to look effortlessly cool. He shrugged and gazed off to the river, at the trees crowding the other bank. "I'm going to be an Animagus."

That got Remus's attention. He stared at Sirius, and wish Sirius would turn to face him, so he could look into those grey eyes more. "What animal are you going to become?"

Sirius looked back over his shoulder, a glint in his eye. "Don't know yet. Something big."

"Oh, really?" Remus nudged him with his elbow. "I think a bunny would suit you."

Sirius made a noise almost like a growl. It made Remus weak in the knees.

"A lion, maybe," Sirius said.

"Or maybe a sea lion." Remus nudged him again. Now that he'd gotten a taste of contact, he couldn't get enough. This time, he brushed his wrist against Sirius's side, and barely had time to marvel at the definition of his abs when Sirius suddenly grabbed his wrists and shoved him against the brick wall of the Oxo tower.

The breath rushed out of Remus's lungs. His heart pounded in his ears—and he felt a stirring of something deep and hungry inside him. Some wolfish part of him howling with pleasure at the pressure of Sirius's body against his, the tickle of Sirius's hair against his neck, the heat of their breaths intermingling.

For a second, Remus was sure Sirius was going to kiss him. His grey eyes were heavy, longing. Gravity pulled the two of them together—but just when the tension became too much for Remus to bear, just when he was about to lean in and initiate the kiss himself, Sirius barked out a little laugh and pulled away.

"Or maybe a bear."

Remus felt deflated, melted. He tried to hide his disappointment as Sirius turned away, and said, "You're not a bear. Too small for that. Not enough beard."

Sirius inclined his head in agreement. "My days of needing a beard are over," he said as they continued down the busy path. "That ended when I ran away from home."

Remus had so many questions burning inside him. He wanted to know everything about Sirius—and simultaneously, felt like he already did.

"That's why I invited you to the wedding. I like everything out in the open. No more pretending to be straight."

Before Remus could respond, something huge barreled into him.

It happened in a haze. Too fast to process. Remus hit the ground and the air rushed out of his lungs again. Suddenly, he was staring at a snarling mouth, inches from his face, a wall of matted hair, eyes shining with hatred.

The wolf was in human form, but everybody knew that the day after a full moon was more dangerous. The wolves were violent at the best of times—but when the surge of power from the moon was at its highest, the werewolves felt embolden, brazen. They had no qualms about attacking someone in broad daylight.

It was one of the Fated Ones—though Remus didn't know that at the time, of course. He hadn't met them yet. The Tall One. Remus was lucky. The Little One was much more dangerous.

There was no way Remus would have been able to fight this wolf off. He had never been strong—a lifetime of hunger kept him weak, with a keen sense of when to play dead.

But before the werewolf could attack, a pair of strong hands wrapped around the wolf's chest and yanked her off. Sirius threw the Fated One across the path, and she stumbled backwards.

Dazed, Remus hardly had time to get up before the wolf pounced again. But this time Sirius was ready. He drew his wand and—_bang_!—blasted the werewolf back against the railing.

If the Muggles noticed, they didn't show it. They hurried past, their eyes averted. Times were hard, after all. Easier for everyone to keep their head down.

"Don't you ever attack him again," Sirius growled. He emanated power, and his wand shot off ominous sparks as he talked. Remus quaked.

But the Fated One was determined. She pushed herself to her feet, her long limbs mangy, her eyes empty and dangerous. "You're dead," she snarled. Not at Sirius. At Remus. "Greyback will hear about this."

Remus shivered. She was threatening _him_, Remus. Even though he did nothing to provoke this. Even though he hadn't even fought back. But Sirius didn't realize. He assumed she was talking to him—he always assumed people were talking to him. "I look forward to it," he said. "Tell the king that Sirius Black has his eye on him."

Sirius shot a jet of purple light from his wand, that bit at her ankles. The Tall One yelped. "Now get out of here," Sirius said.

She didn't need telling twice. The Fated One scampered off, disappearing into the crowd of Muggles.

Sirius turned to Remus, a hysterical laugh bubbling in him—there was nothing like the rush of a fight—but fell silent when he saw the look on Remus's face. A shadow had passed over his eyes. His gaze was drawn, his mouth slack with fear. It was like Remus was imprisoned in memories.

Sirius rushed to him. "Remus." He entwined his fingers with his. When Remus still didn't respond, Sirius gently—tenderly—brushed the jut of his jaw.

The clouds seemed to part from Remus's vision. He inhaled slowly, blinking at the world and Sirius, like it was all new. Finally, Remus met Sirius's grey eyes—and he knew he was safe.

If Sirius wanted to say something about his episode, he didn't. Only opened his mouth a few times. What was there he could say?

The world rushed past them. Muggles on bicycles; boats passing on the river. Kids screamed as they climbed over the benches on the path, unaware—or unafraid—of the danger.

Finally, Remus spoke—so softly it was almost a whisper. "It's like they're after me."

Now—the thing you have to understand about Sirius is that he struggled with the tough emotions. He felt them—of course he felt them. But growing up in the home we did… well, he learned to push them down with a poisonous smile. Or a fist.

So, he shrugged his shoulders, pushed his hands into his leather jacket and said with an air of casualness, "They're after everyone."

"No." Remus's voice dropped. He grabbed Sirius's arm—pulled him close enough to whisper—close enough to kiss. "They're after me especially. I've been running from them since I was a kid. They are always right behind me—always—"

"Remus." Sirius spoke so calmly, held Remus so firmly that the world came back into focus. The world became Sirius—only Sirius. The Muggles around them, the low rumble of tourists, the biting fog that rose off the river—it all melted away. "I will protect you from them. I will never, _never_, let them hurt you."

Ever so slightly—as much as he could—Remus relaxed against him.

I can't say why Remus so readily believed him. Remus had spent half his life on the run. He'd never had a friend who was true. He'd spent his whole life building up walls around himself—and all at once, he knocked them down. Against his better instincts, perhaps, he put his trust in Sirius Black.

Sirius noticed the shift. He straighten up and put back on his favorite roguish smile. With a nod of his head, he pulled them forward, back to the path. They walked in silence for a few moments, and then Remus asked, "So—at the wedding."

They reached the Southbank Center and meandered under the branches of the bare trees.

"Yes?" Sirius asked, his eyes glinting.

Remus cleared his throat. "I just got into town today. I don't have anywhere to sleep. If I go to the wedding, where will I spend the night?"

Sirius met Remus's gaze. They shared a mischievous tug of hunger between them. With a crooked grin, Sirius said, "I think I can think of somewhere."

**A/N:** Thank you so much for reading! I think this is a good time to say that I am obsessed with the HP RP community on tumblr and am so inspired by them. So tropes like badass lesbian Marlene and my portrayal of Fenrir are definitely drawing inspiration. Check out Asktheboywholived and Sirussly for more Fenrir and Marlene content!


	5. Chapter 5: Epic I

Chapter Five: Epic I

_But that was long ago, before we were on this road…_

Sirius and Remus stood inches apart. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to count all the freckles in the other's eyes. Remus ran a hand along the back of Sirius's neck and was rewarded with a delicious shiver.

Just as Remus was working up his courage to lean in—Sirius gasped. His eyes flew wide with realization. "Shit. Dumbledore." He stumbled back.

"What?" Dazed, Remus blinked, trying to return to reality. The surrounding world bled back in. The crowds of tourists jostling past them, the Muggle Londoners with their collars high, their gazes on the ground. Remus felt something slowly deflating within him.

"I was supposed to meet Dumbledore—" Sirius glanced at his watch "—two hours ago. Shit!"

He tore off, climbing the steps to Waterloo Bridge two at a time. It was only when he reached the top that he realized Remus hadn't followed. Sirius turned back, frowning. "I'm so sorry to do this," he said, and he really meant it. "I can explain later."

Remus, wary, climbed the steps to follow up.

"Here." Sirius pulled out a scrap of parchment and scribbled down his address. "Meet me at my place tonight—I'll be there by ten." Sirius curled Remus's fist around it and gave him a steadying smile. "I promise."

It was Sirius's touch more than anything that did it. Remus still hadn't quite recovered from the bait and switch. But the sensation of Sirius's hands around his, their reassuring pressure. Remus tried to meet Sirius now where he was, to forgive and forget, to look on their bright promising future instead. "Okay," he said, trying to sound genuine, trying to _be_ genuine.

"Great." Sirius squeezed his hand. "I'll see you soon."

This wouldn't be the last time Sirius let him down, of course. But neither of them knew it at the time.

* * *

The night was quiet by the time Sirius left Dumbledore's. His teacher had not been happy about his late arrival—and had put him through his paces with so many attempted (and failed) transformations that Sirius could hardly muster the energy to Disapparate. He was exhausted.

And this, dear reader, is where I came in.

Sirius had just Apparated to his usual alleyway, a few blocks from Mrs. Figg's, when I emerged from the wall where I'd been hiding.

"Sirius." I spoke in barely a whisper. But still he heard me. He was, after all, my brother.

Sirius stood frozen, staring at me for a long moment while he tried to process what he was seeing. His face was cast in silver from my glow. I knew I looked different—of course I did—but I hoped he would forgive me anyway.

"Regulus."

Sirius rushed forward, but stopped himself short before he reached me. It would have been too painful—for both of us—for him to pull me into a hug—only to have his hands go right through me. He didn't need to say all the things he was thinking. Once we had shared a mind, shared a life. We had been wild boys, free and unafraid of wolves: our parents could afford the highest protection—there was no way we'd ever get turned.

But here we were, all these years later. We hadn't realized, as kids, that the villain who lives in your house can be worse than the one outside the gates. We hadn't realized that our parents were just as dangerous as the wolves.

I didn't blame Sirius for running a way.

I did, however, blame myself. I made more bad choices than I could count.

And here I was, just a whisper on the earth, a thin thread of memory. The only person who had ever loved me stood before me, but there was nothing he could do to help. I was beyond saving now.

"Regulus… what happened?"

Sirius's face was tight with emotion. He didn't look like the cool guy he always pretended to be—he looked like he had when we were kids. More brave than wise—more sensitive than he let on.

"I don't think I can explain," I said ruefully.

"Try."

If I could have sighed, I would have. Here was the thing about being a ghost: there are so many parts of being alive that you'd never know you would miss: breath in your lungs, a sip of cool water, a winter breeze on your face.

"I went to the wolves, Sirius," I said. "After you left… I couldn't stay with mother and father anymore. I couldn't—" I broke off. The memory of it was too painful, burning in my phantom heart.

Our parents were not good people.

Even now, after all this time, it hurt too much to remember.

Finally, I managed, "I had to go. So I packed up what I could carry and tried to find somewhere to stay."

Sirius balled his fists into his pockets, his face white. "You could have stayed with me." His voice was tight. The night darkened his face, cast his grief in shadow. "You could have found me."

I couldn't look at him. People think dying is the end of suffering, but they are wrong. It only reveals all new ways to suffer.

To dwell on the past and have no way to change it—that is what it means to be a ghost.

"I thought you hated me," I finally said.

Grief tore at him. Sirius fell back against the brick wall and crumpled in on himself. His long hair hid his face, but it couldn't hide the regret radiating from him like fire.

"Reg," he said. "I never—you're my brother." He steeled himself then met my gaze—grey eyes meeting silver. "I thought you agreed with our parents. I thought you wanted to let the wolves have their way with the world—to protect only those who could afford to be protected."

"Never," I said.

Sirius gripped his head, tangling a hand into his hair. He stared at the ground, at the cobble stones under his feet, cast in the eerie light of my glow. "I should have taken you with me."

"It's okay," I tried to reassure him, but Sirius was unreachable. He crouched in the darkness, his eyes fixed on some memory I couldn't see, haunted.

Maybe he was a kind of ghost too.

"Sirius." And then I forgot what I was—I forgot I was nothing but a shadow—and I reached out to him—wishing I could comfort him.

My hand went right through him.

Sirius gasped from the shot of my touch—like being plunged into ice water.

It didn't feel like anything to me. Nothing felt like anything to me. But his shock and the distance it indicated between us—that hurt more than any physical wound.

Sirius regathered himself, getting slowly to his feet. "When did you…" He tried to wrap himself around the word a few times, but failed. "What happened after I left?"

I was the younger brother, yes, but death had changed me. I felt immeasurably old then, watching my big brother—so fragile, so human—try to cope with everything he had yet to learn.

Stories had the power to break a man. Or save him. They should not be treated lightly.

"It happened a long time ago."

"Tell me," Sirius said. And how could I refuse him?

"I was thirteen when you left. Mother and father were furious. Mother especially. She—" Then I broke off, because the ghosts clouded Sirius's eyes—and I didn't want him to think it was his fault. He didn't make our mother what she was.

"I didn't stay at home long. One year. That was all I could take. And when I left, I was more vulnerable than I ever knew. We grew up behind stone gates and locked doors. I wasn't afraid of the wolves. I'd thought I was invincible. I thought they would never come after a well bred boy like me."

Sirius winced. It was my fault—I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice. There are only so many years you can spend as a ghost before your mistakes loom as bright as moonlight.

"I wasn't out on the road long," I said. "I didn't even make it out of London before the wolves found me."

"Which ones?" A flint of fury sparked in Sirius's eye, but I waved my hands impatiently.

"It doesn't matter. They all lead back to one person."

"Greyback."

"Exactly." My voice softened. I watched my brother, tried to soften the blows that I knew were coming. "They brought me in. They told me I could have a new family—I could be like a son."

"What?"

I shrugged. "It's what they tell everyone. The pack is a family. They go for kids just like me—with no family. Young. Vulnerable."

Sirius thought for a long moment. A crease deepened between his eyebrows, and then he struggled to put words to something. "Why didn't they come after me?"

At that, I could only laugh. Sirius had always been special—he had a depth of resilience that he never realized was extraordinary. He was not the kind of man to be hoodwinked. He was not the kind of man to betray himself or someone he loved.

At least not intentionally.

"They wouldn't come for you," I said. "You're too… strong." It wasn't exactly the word I was looking for. But what word meant authentic and brave and loyal and reckless all at once? "Plus, you had James. They don't prey on people with friends. They prey on people who are alone. James may well have saved your life."

"He did," Sirius said. "Even without the wolves. He saved me."

"You're lucky to have him," I said. Then, with a rueful smile, I continued, "I was not so lucky. I fell for their tricks. They told me I could be like a brother to them. Like a son." I stared up at the sky. The city lights were dimmer here, and I could see a hint of the stars. "I fell for it. I followed them down to the Underworld—"

"The what?" Sirius asked.

"That's what they call it," I explained. "They have this… den. Underground. It's terrible. Greyback has made something of a palace of it, while all the lower ranking wolves live in squalor. They walked me through it all, promising me that I would be special underground. That I'd be treated like a prince. I was ready to become one of them. I submitted myself to Greyback. I let him bite me at the full moon. And then…"

But here I stopped. The details were hard to remember.

It's not an easy thing to die, after all.

"What happened then?" Sirius's face was pale, his eyes desperate.

"Greyback got carried away. He ah… bit harder than he should have. Or maybe I was weaker than I needed to be. I didn't survive the bite. All I remember is blood and pain. Like every cell was being torn apart. My life drained away from me, slipped through my fingers. And I was fading…"

"And then?"

I looked at Sirius then. He looked so small with his mortal life and human body. How could I describe what it felt like to fade into atoms, and then reform—the same, and yet totally different from before? "Then I came back," I said. "Not alive again, but close. Not a wolf, not a boy—something different. I could go anywhere, but didn't fit anywhere. When I decided to come back, I… I wanted something."

Here I was hazy. I came back for a reason—I was sure I did. Why else would I have doomed myself to an eternity of this half-existence? When I chose to become a ghost, there was something I wanted, something I needed—enough to make me sacrifice the gentle oblivion of a good death.

But I couldn't remember what it was.

Sirius hook his head as he digested all this information. Overhead, church bells rang—deep and somber. I watched Sirius and counted them—ten rings cut through the quiet night. Sirius jolted back to reality. "It's ten," he said, his eyes growing wide. "Remus!"

He bolted, running directly through me to the entrance of the alley. He almost reached the street before pausing and spinning back around to me. "Regulus," he said. "Blimey. What can I say?"

"Nothing," I said. After so many years beyond the veil, you lose the need for reassurances. I knew what was in his heart. Sirius loved me. We were brothers. I knew nothing would change that. "Just stay safe from the wolves, Sirius. I believe you can do it—you can change the world." I gave him what I hoped looked like a reassuring smile. "You don't have to worry about me. I'll always be here if you call. Don't think about the past, Sirius. It's over. It's done. You can change the world—as long as you keep moving forward and don't look back."


	6. Chapter 6: Livin' It Up On Top

Chapter Six: Livin' It Up On Top

_Let's not talk about hard times. Pour the wine, it's summer time._

Ylva shivered in the alleyway where she sat, a cup of loose Muggle change at her feet and a blanket stretched across her lap.

We met her already, remember? She was one of Greyback's. A wolf, yes. But a different kind of wolf. Not like him one bit.

Her eyes held an ageless sadness—they were the kind of eyes that made you want to fight the world for her, find the source of her sorrow and pluck it out.

Or maybe that was just me.

It was the New Moon—the safest time for her to be out. Her wolfish tendencies were most abated; her pack was laying low. Ylva sat alone and marveled at the human world.

After all these years, I still didn't know much about her. That sadness I saw—that glint of melancholy—she kept buried deep. Most people never saw it. They knew her as the life of the party, always cracking a joke, always pouring another drink. She was quick to laugh and quicker to fight. But secretly, she was prone to fits of melancholy.

Ylva strained against her wolfish tendencies more than anyone I knew. I believed she would have left it all behind if she could—but Fenrir Greyback was not an easy person to turn your back on.

Ylva rustled through her coins. It was enough to grab paint—if any pub would let her in in this state. More realistically, she'd grab a couple cans of beer and take it back to her spot outside.

Just as she was deciding what she wanted to buy, she was hit with a powerful smell of cloves and leather. She looked up to watch a pair of men walk by—their shoulders touching—one brushing his fingers against the other one's waist.

Ylva didn't now why—but something opened inside her looking at them—this young couple, free from the weight of being a wolf, free from the need to fight, the need to push away everyone close to you. Ylva could only dream of a life like that—she'd been turned when she was too young—too young to remember being human, definitely too young to consent.

She waited until the boys passed, then stood up, tapped herself with her wand, and Transfigured her threadbare robes into something more festive—something to match those boys' attire. A casual blazer, a crisp white collar, and a bright bowtie. She shook out her shaggy short curls. Good enough. At least good enough to sneak into whatever party they were going to.

* * *

As it turned out, Remus looked incredible in Sirius's clothes. He wore a pair of impossibly tight jeans, a short sleeved button up and a narrow tie. Instead of a blazer or set of dress robes, Sirius had lent him his second leather jacket. No matter how much Sirius reassured him it was fine, Remus worried they were entirely underdressed.

That was—until they arrived at the wedding. The crowd of people entering the venue looked just like them: people wearing suit jackets over jeans or simple day dresses with heavy work boots. If anything, Remus and Sirius were overdressed.

The happy couple had rented out an empty warehouse in greater London. Usually that would be prime wolf territory—but it was the New Moon, the safest time of the month. Remus had expected a grungy, industrial vibe—but what he saw as he and Sirius walked through the doors took his breath away.

Fairy lights hung low against the warehouse's exposed brick. Beautiful tables, shining in gold, surrounded a large dance floor, and each table carried a centerpiece of perfect white lilies. It was down to earth, yes, but it was beautiful. The second they walked inside, a squadron of house-elves ran up to them, offering trays of drinks.

"Wow," Remus said.

Sirius plucked two flutes of champagne for them and handed one to Remus. "To the perfect couple," he said, holding his glass up.

Remus toasted. He didn't know which couple Sirius meant, but he hoped it was them.

* * *

The ceremony was beautiful. Remus, embarrassed, had been dragged to the front to sit with the bride and groom's closest friends. But his embarrassment melted away as he watched Lily and James—she, glowing in a simple white gown, he alight with joy, his hair a total mess. Sirius was the best man. He shone up there, his tattoos and crooked smile not tough enough to mask how desperately happy he was for his best friend.

Remus knew the night was about Lily and James—but he only had eyes for Sirius.

And then there was the dancing. Merlin, the _dancing_. The second the meal was cleared, Sirius hit the floor with reckless abandon. Remus didn't know the song that was playing, or dance moves at all, but he couldn't get enough of watching Sirius at it. The air electrified around him.

And, soon enough, Sirius was pulling Remus in to join the fun.

Remus had never danced. He hadn't had much occasion to. In any other circumstance, he would be embarrassed—refuse to take part at all. But there was something about Sirius's pure abandon that lit Remus up inside.

Plus, he'd already had quite a lot to drink.

They danced together, swaying their hips to the music. Sirius put a hand on Remus's waist—and Remus felt every point of contact. He breathed into Sirius's neck, enjoying watching the goosebumps that broke out underneath his lips.

He wanted Sirius so badly it scared him.

They danced for what felt like hours, and a long time later, as Lily and James cut the cake, Remus peered around at the crowd-at the beautiful, young faces. All of them, he realized, had been marked by the hard times. Even those who hadn't been chased by wolves half their lives like him. They were hungry—they were tired—but they were squeezing every ounce of joy out of life they could.

Marlene, Sirius's coworker from the cafe, leaned against a short haired woman in a bowtie. Remus frowned. They were a cute couple, but something about the stranger made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

Someone passed him a plate of cake. He turned to offer some to Sirius, but found that Sirius wandering up to the dais where the newlyweds sat.

"I'd like to make a toast," he said, clapping a hand on James's shoulder. The alcohol had given his cheeks a rosy tint. He wore an almost hysterical grin—like he couldn't believe anything better in the world happening than his friend getting married—like he'd been waiting for this his whole life. Remus warmed at the sight of him.

Sirius raised his glass—he'd moved on from champagne to firewhiskey. "James—you're my best friend in the world. You saved my life—probably more than you know. And Lil, you saved James—you make him happier than I've ever seen him."

Lily beamed at him, squeezed James's hand.

"This has been a tough couple of years," Sirius went on. "Okay, a tough two decades." The crowd laughed. "But I believe we can make the world a better place. It starts with _this_." He gestured at Lily and James. "With the love we choose to give to one another. This is the way we can stop the wolves. This is the way we can build the world we want to live in."

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw the strange woman stiffen slightly.

"But I know you two will have a beautiful life in any world—in any universe." Sirius raised his glass. "To the new couple—in a perfect world—and the one we're in right now."

The crowd toasted with him. Remus wanted to run up and kiss him right there. But the crowd—drunk, full of cake, joyful and young—surged back onto the dance floor, and Remus got caught in the tide.

The band started a particularly fast song. Remus tried to back out of the center—he was not a fast song kind of guy—but as the guests got rowdier and rowdier—he found himself trapped. He looked around desperately for Sirius, but he was dancing with Marlene, the two of them nearly doubled over with laughter as they waltzed arhythmically, pretending to be a straight couple.

And just when Remus saw his chance for escape, a hand enclosed on his. It was the strange woman. She held him firmly, her hand surprisingly calloused, but when he turned to her, she winked and gave him an easy smile. Her eyes glimmered with something that made him feel like he was in on the joke. Her short brown curls framed her round face, cheeks smattered with freckles. Remus found himself relaxing. This woman glowed with life. And for a moment, he wondered why he had ever been suspicious of her in the first place.

Laughing, Ylva pulled him to the center of thence floor and bumped hips with him in the most platonic way he could possibly imagine.

Remus couldn't help himself—he started laughing too. And as Ylva grabbed his hands, they erupted into a goofy—and extremely awkward—dance.

Soon, the whole crowd had circled them. Ylva was a good dancer. Even hamming it up like she was doing, Remus could tell. She had a great sense of rhythm and no problem taking control—giving him a dramatic twirl—and once even dipping him so low that his head nearly touched the floor. Remus had never before enjoyed dancing—he'd never had much chance to. But here, he felt alive, humming with vitality.

He shut his eyes and felt lost in the music—that is, until a pair of strong hands wrapped around his hips and pulled him forward. Remus gasped as he landed against Sirius.

Sirius bit his lip and hooked a finger in Remus's belt loop.

All thoughts of Ylva and dancing and laughter rushed from his mind.

Remus was a crackle of magic. The world had melted away—and all he could see were the speckles in Sirius's grey eyes—all he could feel was the tickle of Sirius's breath against him, his hands on his lower back.

The suspense was killing him. He'd never felt more alive.

Then—finally—Sirius kissed him.

It was like nothing Remus has ever experienced before. He melted against him. The tickle of Sirius's stubble against his jaw, the bite of whiskey on his breath.

Remus tangle his hands in Sirius's curls and pulled, loving the sound of Sirius's sharp inhale, the feeling of his body responding to his touch. He'd never felt so satisfied. He'd been hungry all his life—and now, finally, he had enough.

And then—soon—too soon—Sirius pulled away. His lips were bitten red.

Briefly, Remus noticed Marlene pressed against Ylva in the corner, kissing just as passionately as he and Sirius had been moments before.

But Sirius had his attention again soon enough. With a mischievous look in his eye, he asked, "Want to head back home?"

Remus didn't hesitate. "Yes please."


	7. Chapter 7: All I've Ever Known

Chapter Seven: All I've Ever Known

_I was alone so long, I didn't even know that I was lonely._

Sirius and Remus stumbled back to the flat. When they climbed the stairs, Remus accidentally stepped on the tail of one of Mrs. Figg's many cats—and a yowl pierced the night. "Shh," Sirius breathed as Remus jumped halfway to the ceiling. They were both giddy with the rush of young love and the gleam of champagne.

Finally—_finally_—they made it to Sirius's bedroom. The door swung shut and bolted and Remus felt a knot of tension loosen in him.

He'd been in Sirius's bedroom before—of course—he'd been sleeping here, after all. But now, in the half light of the lamp, the rumpled bedding, the sharp smell of cloves all struck him differently. Sirius sat at the foot of his bed, his eyes heavy with hunger.

Remus wanted him. He had never known he had the _capacity_ to want anything so much.

How badly he wanted to unravel right there—follow that swelling build of tension and let Sirius have his way with him. It would have been easy to just give in.

But he needed Sirius to understand. First, before he lost himself in lust, before he fell in love—he had to explain.

Remus hesitated at the foot of the bed. Then, after a long pause, he said, "I've been alone all my life. I need you to know… I've never… _had_ anyone."

If Sirius was surprised at all, he didn't show it. "We can go slow," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"No," Remus said quickly. "Not like that. I mean—" He tried to gather his thoughts, but they were merely fragments that came apart in his grasp like tissue paper. _He_ was a fragment. A broken person. And he needed Sirius to know. After all, Remus thought, who would sign up to love someone like him?

Finally, Remus sat on the edge of the bed next to Sirius. Their knees touched, but nothing else.

Sirius brushed his knuckles against Remus's jawline. "What is it?"

At long last, Remus spoke. "My parents died when I was a kid. The wolves… Greyback…" He struggled for the words. "Greyback hated my dad especially."

"Why?"

Remus waved his hand. "He tried to stop the spread of the pack. This was back at the beginning, when we were kids—back when the Ministry could be counted on for anything. My dad tried to put forward legislature limiting the movements of werewolves."

"Bet Greyback loved that," Sirius said with a grim look.

"Even more than you're imagining," said Remus. He stared at his lap, at Sirius's knee next to his. He wished he could simply reach out, hold him, let himself be held. But nothing with Remus was ever simple.

"Greyback he got my parents killed," Remus said. "Brutally. They tried to kill me too but…" Here, he fell silent, memories flashing before his eyes. The past had a pull like gravity. It was ever present, always just an inch below the surface. Remus ran from the wolves, yes, but he also ran from his own history. To stop, even for a moment, would let the ghosts catch up. But Remus couldn't run from Sirius. He had changed the current of Remus's life. When Remus looked at Sirius, every part of him sang the same song—blood and mind and soul alike, telling him to stay_._

Remus knew that if he wanted to find a home here, he would have to face his demons.

Sirius brushed a tender thumb against Remus's check. "You can tell me," he said. "Anything."

With difficulty, Remus pulled himself out of the past. He tried to focus on the air in his lungs, on the gentle scratch of Sirius's stubble, on the depths of his grey eyes. After a long moment, when Remus felt grounded in the present once more, he managed, "I got away."

He would tell Sirius about the rest—about watching his parents' death, about climbing over their bodies—later. They had all the time in the world.

At least, that was what Remus thought at the time.

He was—unfortunately—mistaken.

Remus searched Sirius's face. He saw compassion, yes, and caring. But he had to know Sirius saw the world that he did. That he understood why Remus couldn't open up, why he couldn't let go.

It was no small matter for Remus Lupin to put his trust in somebody. It was even more remarkable for Remus to feel like he deserved having anyone to trust.

"The wolves are after me," he said again. "Greyback won't let me go. He wants revenge. He'll kill me—or turn me."

Sirius clasped both of Remus's hands in his. "I told you that first day we met," he said, "that I'll never let them get you. I meant it. I won't let it happen. Greyback will never touch you. I promise."

Remus seemed to relax a little. He melted into Sirius, resting his head against his wide shoulder, his hand lazy on his knee. "I have never had anyone who…" But Remus couldn't find the word. Were they boyfriends? That wasn't right. _This_, whatever this was, felt more new—and more profound—than that.

But he didn't need to find the word for Sirius to know what he meant. Sirius looked at him, and his eyes were wide with sincerity, open with love. "Me neither," he said.

And Remus knew, at last, trusted at last, that Sirius understood him. That Sirius could love him at his weakest, find him at his most loss.

"I…" Sirius hesitated. He was not usually one to talk about his feelings. When he first met James, he had never opened up to _anyone_. It took a lot of time for him to build enough trust in his best friend.

And Remus… well, he was something entirely different.

"I have never… felt like this," Sirius finally managed. "I didn't know this was a way I _could_ feel. I just knew, that when I saw you that morning… it was like something clicked into place. Something made sense. I _knew_ you. Even if I hadn't met you—even if we'd never met in this universe—I would still be yours. My heart was made for you."

A surge of emotions too complicated to describe rose in Remus's chest. Of course, he knew what Sirius meant. He felt it too. Their lives belonged to each other. Nothing—and no one—would ever change that. No death or wolves or betrayal would change that. Sirius knew without a doubt that he would go to hell and back for Remus.

"Remus."

Their eyes met. A delicious humming of tension ran through both of them. This time it was Remus who reached out, Remus who pulled Sirius to him, who grasped the firm plane of his shoulders. Sirius gasped against him, growing with pleasure as Remus traced his hand lower.

When Sirius came up for air, his hair was deliciously tousled, his eyes alight with life. Delicately, he traced a hand down the curve of Remus's neck—and he began to take off his shirt, agonizingly slowly—one button at a time. Remus bit his lip, wishing the moment could last forever, wishing he could get it over with and have both of them undressed together.

Remus shrugged his shirt off and kissed the soft skin of Sirius's neck. With a mischievous smile, he tugged at his belt. Sirius growled against him—and let Remus have his way with him.

Reader, I hope you can forgive me for stopping there. Sirius is, after all, my brother.

Remus and Sirius already shared a life, shared a soul. But that night, they made their union final. They pledged to each other—whether they knew it or not—to go with each other to the ends of the earth. They didn't need a wedding to make that promise. They didn't need a party or a cake or a fountain of champagne. They had each other, and that was enough.

Or so they thought at the time.

They woke the next morning with their limbs tangled. Sirius had fallen asleep with his head on Remus's chest—and Remus took a moment when he emerged from his dream, to enjoy the comforting weight of his lover's presence.

Sirius's eyelashes tickled against his chest and Remus knew that he too was blinking awake. They laid in silence for a moment, their breaths and heartbeats in sync. Remus thought he would never be more content.

"Promise me," he finally said, breaking the spell. "That it will always be like this. That we'll be safe—that we'll be together—forever."

Sirius pushed himself up to better gaze into Remus's endless eyes. He leaned forward, kissed him tenderly, and said, "I promise."


	8. Chapter 8: Way Down Hadestown

Chapter Eight: Way Down Hadestown

_She's gonna ride that train 'til the end of the line. 'Cause the King of the Mine is coming to call…_

Sirius and Remus had two happy weeks. Between training with Dumbledore and long nights with Remus, Sirius was exhausted—no count of espresso could help. He'd never been busier in his life.

But he'd also never been happier. A golden light seemed to be cast over all his days. His night were steeped in silver.

And Remus—well, Remus hardly could believe this dream life he'd stumbled into. He'd expected to die like he'd lived—always looking over one shoulder, always with one eye on the horizon. He never imagined he'd have a home. Or anyone who loved him. Or anyone to love.

Remus woke each morning in Sirius's arms, instinctively ready to fight, ready to run—until remembering where he was now—who he was now—whose he was now—and relaxing back into his lover's grasp, burying his face in his hair.

Remus had become a staple of Orpheus Coffee too—always in his corner armchair with the view of Sirius, always nursing his last sip of cold coffee. Madam Marsh had practically adopted him—fussing over his hair, buying him herbal teas.

Sirius would work his shift, occasionally giving Remus a wink, and Remus would wait happily watching his beloved or else reading whatever he could get his hands on. He'd been a bookish child, but hard times had taken that away from him.

Around midday, Marlene would come in to take over. Sometimes she brought Ylva—who Remus learned was about his age and had also had a hard life on the road.

At least, that was what she told him.

Ylva and Marlene shared the same glow of young love. And the more time Remus spent with Ylva, the more he liked her. The more he regretted his initial fear and dislike of her. She was great company—with a loud, biting laugh and a warmth that made you feel like you were in on the joke. She always had another barb—always another drink to pour—always another adventure in her back pocket.

She'd exchanged her suit from the wedding for a more paired down look—oversized flannels and heavy boots. Sometimes she wore one of Marlene's bandanas tied around her neck.

Remus liked her. And over the weeks, he found himself imagining a future—the four of them, becoming friends. Having a pint at the pub at night, going home to play rough with Sirius, early mornings at the coffee shop.

Unfortunately, it was a future he would never have.

* * *

"Rem, you want a little something?" Ylva held out a burnished flask, shaking it enticingly above his mug.

It was eight in the morning. Remus tried to hide his frown at Ylva's drink—an Americano with a splash of…whatever was in that flask. He discretely sniffed. Rum. "That's alright," he said, picking up his coffee so she couldn't go rogue and pour some booze in there anyway. Ylva was always doing things like that.

"Suit yourself," she said and put her flask away.

On mornings like this, when Ylva arrived to the cafe before Marlene's shift, she and Remus shared the squishy couch in the back of the cafe. It had a better view of the customers coming in—the perfect seat for gossiping. Unfortunately that came at the expense of a view of Sirius, who was busy at the bar.

But Remus saw Sirius every day. Only during Sirius's Animagus trainings were they apart.

Ylva leaned back, kicking her boots onto the table in front of her. "What are you and Sirius up to tonight?" she asked.

Remus shrugged. "Probably nothing."

"Ah, you're such a bore."

"Well—"

"I'm trying to invite you out, Rem," Ylva said, laughing. She ran a hand through her shaggy hair. "The four of us—six if James and Lily want to come. We can grab a pint."

The idea was enticing. Having friends was still very much a novelty to Remus. He didn't think he would ever get enough of normal things like this—going to the pub with friends, waking up in Sirius's arms, laughing over his second cup of coffee. But there was a problem.

"It's the full moon," he said.

Ylva poured more rum into her Americano. "So?"

"Well, uh." Remus almost laughed. It was so typical—so _Ylva_ to not give two shits about the wolves. He had never met anyone like her. Most people—even the bravest people—carefully avoided being out after dark for the whole week of the full moon. Remus didn't know where Ylva got her nerve. It was almost pathological. The only person he'd ever met who came close was—

"Oi, feet off my table." Sirius swatted at Ylva's boots with his rag. His tone bit, but his face was bright with good humor. "And you," he said, turning to Remus, "letting her do that. What kind of boyfriend are you?"

Remus mocked offense. "The kind of boyfriend who isn't paid to work here."

"You are paid in espresso," Sirius said. "And sexual favors."

Ylva snorted into her drink. Heat crept up Remus's cheeks but he laughed too. And for one, delicious moment, the three of them had no care in the world. They were young and free and over caffeinated. Until—

"Oh shit." Ylva's face fell. Her grip tightened on her mug.

"What?" Sirius asked.

"Can't you hear that?"

Sirius and Remus strained their ears, but they heard nothing. They were, after all, only human.

But Ylva was not. And she heard what they couldn't—the howls of wolves two streets away. The rough laughter and bloodthirsty chanting. The Fated Ones—Ylva knew without a doubt.

And just as Sirius and Remus recognized the danger, just when they realized what was about to happen, the door slammed open, and the Fated Ones poured in.

It was daytime. But that didn't stop the chaos. Even in human form, the three Fated Ones were incredibly destructive. The Tall One howled with delight as the Broad One clambered onto the bar, smashing her fist across the shelf of mugs, slamming all of them. The Small One went right for Ylva—and pounced on her.

Remus yelled. Sirius threw his body in front of him, drawing his wand and pointing it at the Small One. But it was no use. Ylva had reacted fast—and they were locked in combat already, tousling across the floor, digging their nails into each other's skin. There was no way to hit the Fated One without risking Ylva too.

Ylva growled, her eyes steady, her teeth bared. The sight chill Sirius to the core. Remus felt that old suspicion snagging again. She fought with a ferocity he'd never seen before. It was almost like she wasn't human. Almost like she was a—

"What are you running from?" snarled the Small One. She had Ylva pinned, her hair snarled in her claw. "Afraid Daddy is going to be angry?"

"What?" But neither Sirius nor Remus had time to process this before Ylva roared and threw the Fated One off her.

Sirius took his opportunity. "_Petrificus Totalus_." The Small One stiffened instantly, frozen on the floor.

Ylva finally had time to draw her own wand, and between the three of them, they had the remaining Fated Ones covered.

"Everyone who is a customer," Sirius said in a level voice, "get out of here."

The other wizards and witches didn't need telling twice. They rushed out of Orpheus Coffee, their heads down, their grips white on their wands.

"Remus, you too," Sirius said.

Remus, who had his wand trained square on the Tall One's heart, didn't spare him a glance. "No."

"I can't let you get hurt."

Remus tightened his jaw. "I can hold my own, Sirius."

The five of them stood in stalemate. All the while Remus kept one eye rained on the Small one on the ground. He knew Sirius's jinx wouldn't hold forever. Finally Sirius asked, "You want to tell us what this is all about, Ylva?"

"Not particularly," she said. Her face was hard—her usual playful smirk had become sharp. She looked almost animal.

The Tall One said, "He's coming. You know he is, Ylva."

"What is she talking about?" Sirius asked. But Remus thought he had a shrewd idea. But that would mean… His eyes widened. The unthinkable clicked into place.

"Oh, you haven't told them?" the Broad One crowed. She wheezed with laughter. "Your little friends don't know?"

"Don't know what?" said Sirius.

"This is how the rest of your lot, you know," the Tall One said. "Becoming too friendly with _humans_."

"Don't know what?!" Sirius repeated, his voice harsh.

"Sirius." Remus put his hands on his shoulder. Steadying—at least he hoped.

"Tell them," the Broad one said.

"You don't want us to do it, do you?" asked the Tall One.

Ylva didn't say anything for a long moment. She didn't meet anyone's eye. But set her jaw, tightened her grip on her wand.

"Ylva," Remus said softly. "Tell us."

At long last, she looked at them and said, "I'm a werewolf."

Remus flinched. He expected Sirius to explode. But instead, his shock froze him. And in his confusion, Sirius lowered his wand. A crucial mistake. He turned to Ylva—betrayal hard in his eyes. "You _dared_—"

"Sirius." Remus tried to interrupt, but Sirius shook him of.

"You lied to me. You liked to all of us."

"Sirius," Ylva said, desperate. "It's not like that."

"WHAT COULD IT POSSIBLY BE LIKE?"

Before Ylva could respond, before the Fated Ones gathered for an attack, before Remus could calm Sirius down, the door slammed open yet again.

And Fenrir Greyback walked in.

With a flick of his wand, he disarmed Sirius and Remus. A moment later, he released the Small One and she leapt to her feet, snarling.

"Well, well, well." Fenrir Greyback's voice so low it made the hairs on Remus's arms stand on end. He emanated power. He smelled of blood and sweat and unwashed fur. A perpetual hungry smirk spread across his face, his eyes searching for his next victim, his next meal. As he stalked into the cafe, he seemed to suck all the air out of the room. Each footstep echoed dully.

"Playing human again?" Greyback asked Ylva.

Ylva wasn't intimidated. Though she was half his size, her head as broad as one of Greyback's massive biceps, she did not quail. She snapped to her gaze to him, glaring. "It's none of your business."

Greyback's face twisted into an expression of mock offense. "Oh now, none of that. I missed you." He stalked over to Ylva, and grabbed the back of her robes. Remus had the immediate image of an alpha carrying its cub by the scruff of its neck. "What were you going to do with your pathetic human friends at the full moon?" Greyback breathed. "Did you think you could keep your secret forever?"

Ylva's lips twitched. And for the first time, Remus thought she was about toe crack.

"They will never love you," Greyback continued, relentless. "Humans never can. Not for who you are. Do you think _this_ is who you are?" The king scoffed, disgusted. "I raised you to be better than this. I raised you to be a wolf." He shoved her forward. Ylva stumbled.

Remus marled at her shift in demeanor. She was sually so vivacious, so tough—he never thought he would see her deflated.

"We're going back to the Underworld," Greyback said. "I hope you got this little playing human game out of your system."

Ylva stared back at them miserably. She looked like she wanted to say something—beg for forgiveness, maybe, ask them to tell Marlene what happened—but Sirius's stealy glare invited no confidence.

"Come." Greyback snapped and all three Fated Ones fell into formation. He swung open the door and his silhouette stood in sharp relief against he golden morning. He was a true king. Powerful. With easy authority and loyal subjects.

Remus couldn't help himself. For a flicker of a moment, he wondered what it would be like to have that kind of power for himself.

Greyback turned around. It was as if he'd read Remus's mind. He stared straight at the boy, a hungry smile spreading across his face.

Instinctively, Sirius moved in front of Remus, shielding him.

Greyback snorted a laugh, unbothered. And even though Remus couldn't see him, he knew that when the king spoke, he was speaking directly to him. "See you soon, little cub."


	9. Chapter 9: Epic II

Chapter Nine: Epic II

_And jealousy fuels him and feeds him and fills him…_

The door slammed shut. Silence clouded over their ears like cotton balls. The sudden absence of the wolves felt almost like a loss. The cafe was totally empty now, except for the two of them. Neither breathed.

Finally, after a long silence, Sirius said, "She's his daughter."

The suspense of the moment flooded through Remus. The fight and flight—it rushed out of him all at once. He shook out his limbs, overwhelmed by his sudden spike of adrenaline. The cafe was too quiet. Too empty. He needed to fight something. He needed to _do something_. Remus rushed over to the counter and started charming all the broken mugs bag together.

Sirius still stood, a sudden understanding cracking something inside him wide open. "She is his daughter and she tried to run way." He ran a hand through his hair distracted, unseeing. He didn't even notice Remus cleaning everything up for him. "He is trying to build a family."

And then Sirius fell silent. His mind was buzzing—all the pieces falling into place. The true problem was slowly starting to dawn on him. The vulnerable kids Greyback went for… the sick family dynamic of the pack… Ylva trying to run away… The problem presented itself with sudden clarity.

But how would he be able to fix it?

In wonderment, Sirius said, "It doesn't have to be like this…"

Remus straightened up, clutching a mug in each hand, frowning. He loved Sirius, it was true. But in these moments, he was unreachable. He focused so much on the big picture, on the fight for freedom, that he couldn't see the danger directly in front of them. "Well, until someone stops the wolves," Remus said, unable to hide the irritation in his voice, "this is how it is."

Sirius blinked. The world came back into focus. He saw Remus, cleaning up the mess left by the wolves—the tipped up cushions, the coffee grounds smattered on the wall—and Sirius knew exactly what he had to do.

He summoned his jacket from the back room and pulled it on. He was halfway to the door when Remus asked, "Where are you going?"

Sirius spun around to face him. A sea of distance grew between them. Sirius was lost in his own ideas, his own certainty. He couldn't explain all the things he now—suddenly—understood. He only hoped that Remus would understand. "Dumbledore," Sirius said. "I have to go to Dumbledore."

Remus's face hardened. His gaze flickered down at the mess he was cleaning—and all the old fears, all the old betrayals came rising up in him. But—no—life was different now, he tried to tell himself. _He_ was different now. Remus took a long breath. He couldn't give into mistrust and fear. He'd had a taste of a life of trust, a life of peace—and he never wanted to go back. So, he gave Sirius a shaky smile and said, "Be careful—get back home before dark."

Sirius only nodded—and without another word, he was off.

* * *

Actually, Sirius and Dumbledore never trained on the full moon. It was too dangerous to be out past twilight. But Sirius, in his rush of understanding, had lost track of the moon cycle entirely. He thought of nothing but the goal ahead of him, shining like a beacon.

Reader, I could hardly bear to watch this. Yes, Sirius's work was important—but he was risking more than he knew, rushing to Dumbledore first thing. While he focused on ending Greyback's reign, he almost entirely put Remus out of his mind.

And I tried to stop it. Please understand that. I could see the signs all around him—the neglect of his relationships, the obsessive focus, the dream of something better, something beyond what he had right now. I knew what it looked like when Sirius ran out on someone he loved.

And I had to stop it.

"Sirius." I appeared in a quiet street, halfway to Dumbledore's flat. The sun was high in the sky, making me harder to make out. But I knew he would hear me.

Sirius spun, a wild look in his eye. "Regulus," he said, breathless. "Where have you been?"

"I'm always here." It was perhaps, more true than Sirius realized. "If you call for me, I'll always be here."

Sirius didn't seem to take this in. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes alight. I knew this look. It always predated one of his more dangerous schemes. "Regulus, listen, I just got this incredible idea. I just realized—"

"Sirius." I floated so I was right in front of him, tried to dampen the stars in his vision. "It's the full moon."

But he wasn't listening. He rushed on. "Ylva is Greyback's _daughter_. And she hates him. I realized it when he came tog et her this morning. She lied to him—she lied to _us_ because she wants to be human. She's fighting against who she is. And Greyback wants her home."

I have to admit that at the time I did not understand the significance. All I saw were the immediate concerns, looming on the horizon. Sirius had a gift—as brave and reckless and callous as he could be—he had a clarity of vision unlike anyone else. He knew what he had to do to save the world.

"Regulus, tell me." Sirius stepped closer, so close that if I were solid, we would have been touching, casually leaning against each other just like when we were boys. "Do you know any more about Greyback's family? Did you learn anything while you were there?"

I hesitated. It was true that I knew more than I let on. When you're dead, it is easy to unspool someone's secrets. All you have to do is listen. And wait. And I had all the time in the world.

"This kind of information is dangerous," I said. "It's safer not to know."

"Safe?" Sirius repeated. "There is no _safe_ anymore. Greyback ruined that years ago."

"I know, but—"

"And you're dead," Sirius said with a glint of cold triumph. "What do you know about safety?"

I fell silent. It was no use arguing with my brother when he got like this—I knew that from years of experience. In truth, I knew much more about safety—and loss—than Sirius did. But I knew he would not see it that way. There is nothing like losing your life to show you just how valuable it is.

"Regulus, I think I can end this," Sirius said. He frowned at me, running a hand through his hair. "If you really have been listening this whole time, you know what Dumbledore wants me to do. You know our plan—"

"It's a risky plan," I said. I couldn't help myself.

"Ah, but when have I ever shied away from a little risk?" Sirius gave his signature devil-may-care grin.

And I hate to say that it almost worked on me. I hated Dumbledore's plan. I hated the idea of Sirius going down to the Underworld—taking his fragile human body straight to where the monsters slept.

Little did I know that what would eventually happen would be so much worse.

"Ylva is Greyback's only living child," I finally said, grudgingly.

"Only _living_ child?" Sirius asked. "There were more, weren't there? One of the wolves said something about _her lot_. Did she mean…" His eyes grew wide. He stared at me as though seeing me for the first time. "Siblings. Did she have siblings?"

I winced. The past is a dangerous thing. People will go to any lengths to protect the ones they love—even long after they are dead. Greyback never spoke of his other children. Neither did Ylva. They kept their memories tucked deep into the darkest corners of their hearts. A secret like that could be a great weapon—but more likely, it was just a liability.

"He had more," I finally said. "Three boys—but they all died."

"How?"

"I don't know," I said. "It's a tough life to be a werewolf. Maybe a normal street brawl? Or maybe something worse. But ever since then, he's been incredibly over protective of Ylva. Never letting her leave the Underworld—not even at the full moon."

"But she got away," Sirius said, speaking fast, "the past few weeks—"

"She _ran _away," I corrected him. "Big difference."

Sirius gave a hollow laugh. We both knew that all too well.

"She hates her father," I said.

"Who wouldn't?"

I could only shrug. Those three other boys hadn't hated him—not from what I understood. But they had died long before I did.

And they didn't come back as ghosts.

"I have to tell Dumbledore," Sirius said. "This is too important." He took off, running across the pavement toward Dumbledore's flat. I glided alongside him, anxious about what he was thinking. The Muggles paid me no mind—I was practically invisible in the sunlight anyway.

When we finally reached the entrance to Dumbledore's building, Sirius turned to me and said, "Regulus… Thank you."

I was uneasy. I regretted letting the conversation get this far. "For what?"

"I think we can really do it." And the wild hope in Sirius's eyes was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Beautiful—dangerous. "I think we can stop Greyback for good."


	10. Chapter 10: Chant

Chapter Ten: Chant

_Every year, it's getting worse. Hadestown, hell on Earth._

The Underworld was Ylva's least favorite place on earth. It was dingy; it was spare. And after twenty years of Greyback's campaign to turn as many humans as possible—it was over crowded.

Mindlessly, she followed her father, clambering down the steps of an abandoned Muggle tube stop, following the track tracks to their underground hovel. The Fated Ones had peeled off long ago—they got what they wanted—Ylva to be as unhappy as possible—and ran off to position themselves optimally for that night's full moon. They were always on the hunt for more kids to bite.

Miserably, she trudged behind her father, through the winding series of tunnels, down past the magical gates that allowed no humans to pass, into the heart of the Underworld. The moment they passed through the gates, Ylva felt the change. The subtle shift of energy—from the squalor, the dank darkness of London's tunnels to the wolves' den. A feral energy buzzed in the air—a raw, desperate kind of hunger. The stupor that hung over most of the young wolves, heavy as the haze of a bottle of rum. They had only just got back when Ylva felt revulsion rise in her throat.

She _hated_ it here. A bunch of teenagers lounged right by the entrance—their faces smudged with filth, their eyes vacant. They laid all over each other like puppies—and hardly noticed when Ylva and the king stepped over them.

Ylva followed the meandering path of her father's wand light. All around her, she saw wasted lives—people her father had turned, who had lost everything. The wolf had taken them entirely over. They waited feverishly for the full moon rapturously—their one night to be their true selves. Whatever meaning they used to know was lost. They lived to eat and fight—and that was all.

The walls were ragged with long scratches, smattered with blood. Everything reeked of death and violence.

Ylva _hated_ it here.

Just as they got to her father's private apartment, she crossed her arms and asked, "If we're so overcrowded down here, why don't you give up this flat?"

Greyback hardly deigned to react as he flicked his wand to flood the pace with light. Despite the barrenness of the den outside, Greyback lived like a king. It paid to have every member of the magical world afraid of you. The rich and the powerful sent him anything he could ever need. Plush furniture, delicate art he never would appreciate, stockpiles of food. Even the rarest luxury—a window in his bedroom so he could feel the moonlight every night. "I'm the alpha," he said impatiently. "It's the way things should be."

Ylva's temper was even shorter than her father's. Which was certainly saying something. "That's bullshit. You're turning people and forcing them into this life—and you have nothing to offer them."

"I offer them freedom. Freedom from laws and the tyranny of men."

"And they're so free down here?" she asked.

"Watch it." Greyback snarled.

"But why keep biting people?" Ylva pushed on, unafraid. "Your people, if you haven't noticed, are suffering. You don't need more wolves—"

Then Greyback's temper broke. His hackles raised and he spun to face his daughter. He looked truly enormous, then—anger radiating off him, as hot as a sun. "I'm building a family," he growled. "A brotherhood of wolves."

Greyback stalked toward her and Ylva did her best not to shrink. Her father wasn't as aggressive with her as he was with the other wolves. But. That didn't mean he was never violent. But Ylva was brave, and she the rum she'd had that morning dulled the edge of her fear.

"Don't you remember how it was when your brothers died?" Greyback asked, his voice low. He reached out, and Ylva did her best not to flinch. With surprising tenderness, he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "You were so lonely—so unreachable—after they died. I'm building this family for you."

And to that…Ylva had no response.

* * *

Sirius had nearly transformed five times already. He was _so_ close. Each time, he shrunk, hunched over, coarse black fur sprouting from his bare limbs—but he hadn't quite gotten all the way—and he was exhausted.

"You're nearly there," said Dumbledore as Sirius grabbed his jacket and wand. "I think a few more lessons will do it."

Sirius gave him a grateful smile. After Greyback and the Fated Ones stormed into Orpheus Coffee, it felt better—so much better—to be doing something. To be fighting for the cause. To prepare and train to do everything he could to not be a sitting duck. "And the good news is that it looks like I'll transform into something big enough to actually stand a chance if it comes to a fight." He had just put his hand on the doorknob to help himself out, when a wolf howl pierced through the quiet night.

Sirius pulled his hadn't back as though he'd been burnt. He and Dumbledore met each other's eyes—as the same realization hit them both like a wave.

It was the full moon.

They had completely forgotten.

And now that the sun was down, now that the moon was out, there was no way Sirius could leave the flat. Not until the sunrise.

Dumbledore recovered from the shock first. "Well, you'll just have to spend the night," he said cheerfully. "I'll set up the spare bedroom. Can I offer you a nightcap?"

But Sirius was distracted. "No… no thanks."

Once Dumbledore had hurried off, Sirius rushed to the bathroom, shut the door and whispered, "Regulus, are you there?"

I was, in fact, there. I couldn't help myself. I appeared at once, floating in from my hiding spot in the walls, looking sheepish.

"I need you to do me a favor," Sirius said without preamble. "Remus…" He struggled to find the words. And even though I knew what he was about to say, I let him fight for it. I didn't want to make this easy easier for him. "He's alone—he'll be scared," Sirius said. "I didn't think."

Still, I said nothing. Reader, I must confess that I was furious with him.

"Can you go to him? Tell him where I am? That I'm okay?"

I waited.

Sirius continued, a little desperately. "The wolves can't hurt you…"

Not physically, no. But what Sirius had yet to learn was that there were more ways to be hurt. Worse ways to be hurt.

He would learn that in time.

Sirius looked at me with his hard grey eyes—and I knew I couldn't say no. Even as angry as I was. "Please?" he asked.

"I'll tell him," was all I said—and then I glided off into the night.

* * *

Remus, as you can imagine, was not expecting me.

He was hovering by the front window when I appeared, but he didn't notice me. Not at first. When I said his name, he jumped about a foot.

Once he had recovered, Remus gripped the wall, his face white. "What happened?" he asked. "Sirius, is he—"

"He's fine," I said quickly. Remus sat down with relief—his eyes blank on the dark window. "He just—lost track of time." It was harder to admit than I'd anticipated. Watching my brother's neglect was one thing—participating in it was another. "He was training with Dumbledore—and didn't realize it was a full moon. Didn't realize the sun had set."

Remus didn't speak. Didn't look at me.

After a beat of silence, I said. "He's staying there till the sun comes up."

I didn't know Remus well at the time—I didn't recognize that steely sheen behind his eyes or his brittle smile.

Remember, he'd spent his life on the run—he was used to being betrayed.

But Sirius was supposed to be different. He had promised he would be different.

Remus shut his eyes and sighed slowly. He wanted to trust—wanted to believe Sirius would protect him. "Okay," Remus finally said. "I'm glad he's safe. I'll see him tomorrow."

* * *

Ylva woke early one morning to the sound of crying—and although her eyes were still heavy with the remnants of last night's vodka, although it was common practice among Greyback's reign to ignore the needs of the many—she rushed out of her bed to find the person who needed help.

What she found broke her heart.

A boy—just a kid—awkwardly, painfully splayed out against the wall. He clutched his throat. And Ylva could see the blood, brutal, between his fingers. His eyes were half-closed, clouded with pain. He was so young. Younger than some of her brothers had been when they died.

No—Ylva couldn't think about that.

Who could guess what happened? A fight, no doubt. With a rival or a friend? In the end, did it matter?

Ylva rushed both the boy. He flinched when he saw her—expecting that she would hurt him, because that what he'd been taught—that the strong would only hurt him, that he had to fight to survive. "It's okay," Ylva said, even though it wasn't—not in the slightest.

It was weeks after her father had come to collect her—weeks in the dark, in the misery. Weeks of seeing innocent victims like this fall prey to the brutality Greyback promoted.

The boy was dying. There was no use pretending. Once she saw the wound up close, it was all Ylva could do not to wince.

Injuries like this were common in the Underworld. Wolves were not meant to live cooped up like this. Even with the heavy air of sedation that hung on each person like wool. With everyone jostling for dominance, people solved petty squabbles with their teeth more often than not. And innocents like this boy paid the price.

Ylva held him until he died. It wasn't her first death—and she knew it wouldn't be her last. She wish she'd thought to bring her flask. Maybe a few drinks would ease the boy's pain. She knew it would ease hers.

Once he had gone, she laid him down gently and closed his eyelids.

This boy had a mother. He had friends. And everything—everything—had been taken from him.

"What are you doing?"

Her father stood above her, looking down at the boy's body with contempt.

"What you aren't strong enough to do," Ylva said, pushing herself up to her feet, staring at him furiously. "I'm helping our people."

Greyback made a derisive noise, gesturing at the boy. "He was weak. He wasn't truly one of mine."

"Everyone you turn is yours," Ylva said. "They are your responsibility."

"I'm the king. I'm not their mother—"

"He would have been better off with a mother than a king," Ylva interrupted. "And so would I."

Greyback drew back, his eyes narrowing. "How can you say that to me after everything I've done?"

"Easily."

Usually Ylva's rage burned white hot. But now it was cold as ice—freezing her from the inside out. She hated her father. A younger version of her would have fought, would have screamed her raised her fist. But now all she felt was frigid contempt.

She spat on the ground by his feet. "This boy is lucky," she said. "It's better to be dead than be ruled by you."

* * *

Weeks after the last full moon, Sirius still had yet to master full transformation. His whole life narrowed on this one minuscule focus. He hardly slept. He hardly saw Remus. He trained with Dumbledore all day—not even realizing that he had stopped going to work, not realizing that he was abandoning Remus in the very worst way.

This is how we betray the people we love. It is rarely in one fell swoop. No, we betray each other with a million little choices each day.

Sirius didn't realize what he was doing, but that doesn't make it right. He was so focused on saving the world, he hardly noticed the person right in front of him.

Remus needed saving too.

* * *

Remus knew that Sirius didn't even think about where the money was coming from. He didn't think about getting fired. Luckily for both of them, Remus had plenty of barista experience—and picked up all of Sirius's shifts without a word. The boss didn't care—he only cared that the work got done.

One afternoon, Remus left his shift at Orpheus Coffee, exhausted. He waited up every night to see that Sirius got home safely—and after only a few hours' sleep, woke up before the crack of dawn to get to work. He was so tired that he couldn't be his usual diligent self. He forgot all the lessons he learned on the road, all the million things he did to keep himself safe.

He didn't notice the Fated Ones on his tail—he didn't notice anything until he'd turned into the alley to Disapparate—and suddenly found himself cornered.

The Fated Ones were close enough that he could feel their breath on his skin.

Remus stumbled back, adrenaline flooding him.

The Tall One grabbed him right away, her nails digging sharp into his skin. "Where's your boyfriend, cub?" she asked.

Remus tried to pull himself free, but it was no use. The Broad One grabbed his other arm—and he knew he'd never break free. He had never been physically strong—he could never beat the Fated Ones at their own game.

"Let me go," he growled. He was not above begging.

"Oh, why should we?" cooed the Small One. "Your big bad boyfriend left you all alone. There's no one to protect you now."

"Sirius!"

It was stupid to call for him. Remus knew he wouldn't hear. Sirius was far away, doing something _important _no doubt. Too important to care about the fate of Remus.

"Aw, look at that," said the Tall One. "How cute."

"Makes me sick," said the Broad One.

And Remus couldn't fight—he couldn't think. He'd been cornered before and it never ended well. His best move would be to play dead. But would the Fated Ones fall for that? They were smarter than they looked.

"See you soon, cub," the Small One said, grinning in sinister delight. The Tall One and the Broad one released him, shoving him forward.

And just as Remus wondered if he had somehow—miraculously—gotten away with this, he was thrown to the ground. A boot collided with his side and a spasm of pain jolted through him. The Broad One kicked him again and again, until Remus could no longer think, could no longer feel anything but the blows of steel toes against his ribs.

The Tall One rummaged in his pockets, pulled out all of his gold and once he was left with nothing but his wand, followed the others, cackling as they Dissapparated.

* * *

Ylva had enough. She waited by the front door until her father got home from a hunt—he was usually mellow then. Easier to confront. Easier to catch off guard. She worked her way through four vodka sodas while she waited. And when he finally came home at four AM, her mind was fogged with booze.

The moment he came through the front door, she pushed herself up, fighting not to stumble in her drunkenness.

"It's not even the full moon," she said, enunciating carefully so as not to slur. "Who were you attacking tonight? Who were you killing tonight?"

The king's jaw was smeared with blood. He had that satiated smile that he only got after a night of violence. Two new gashes bled freely on his face, but he wore them like a crown.

"None of your business." Fenrir strode to the sink, splashed his face with cold water.

"I don't even know you anymore," Ylva said. She hated the sight of him like this. Hated the reek of death that followed him everywhere he went. "You didn't used to be so violent. You didn't used to be so insatiable."

Greyback straightened and they made eye contact through the mirror. "I do this for you," he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. "All of it for you."

"I don't want it!"

And—finally—her drunkenness got the best of her. She threw her vodka soda. Hard. She was too drunk to aim properly, and the glass shattered against the wall, several feet from Greyback's head.

He didn't even flinch. Slowly, he turned around, hardened unmoved, taking in her rage and her misery, and said, "Fine."

Then he stalked off, brushing past Ylva and heading back to the front door.

Ylva hadn't been expecting this. As much as she hated her father, she didn't want him to _leave_. She wanted him to fight. Wanted him to get angry or hurt or show that he cared even a little bit.

She watched him go, something deflating in her chest. "Where are you going?" she asked. And as much as she tried to keep the angry edge in her voice, she betrayed herself. She didn't sound like a fighter, then. She sounded like a girl who needed her father.

"If you don't want to be part of this family, I'll find someone who does." Greyback spun around, his eyes gleaming. "And I think I know just the person."


	11. Chapter 11: Hey Little Songbird

Chapter Eleven: Hey Little Songbird

_Hey, little songbird, look all around you. See how the vipers and vultures surround you? And they'll take you down. They'll pick you clean._

Sirius hadn't come home the night before. At this point, Remus knew better than to worry. Sirius had spent half his nights out recently—training round the clock. He hadn't even been home since the Fated Ones had corners Remus. He didn't even know that Remus had been hurt.

Reader, I hope you'll forgive my brother. I cannot make excuses for what he did, no—but I hope you can understand why he did it. He got lost in his dream of a better world—he couldn't see the better world that was right in front of him.

Remus was, once again, alone.

He'd been alone before. His whole life, in fact.

But the sweetness of having Sirius so close made the pain of his loneliness all the more bitter. He left for the coffee shop that morning extra early. With the pain in his ribs, he had to move slowly. As Remus crept down the stairs, he thought about Sirius—off saving the world. Sirius giving more attention to Dumbledore than to him. Sirius who hadn't thought to check on him even once.

The dawn glinted bright against the window above Mrs. Figg's front door. Remus was bleary. He didn't want to face another day. Another shift. Another round of customers' impatience.

He swung open the door.

Fenrir Greyback stood right outside, waiting for him.

"Hey, little cub." Greyback gave him a wide, sinister smile.

Remus acted on instinct, pulling his wand, trying to withdraw back into the house. But Greyback was too fast for him. With a lazy flick, he disarmed Remus. Grabbed him by the front of the robes and dragged him out onto the street. The door slammed shut and locked. "No need for that, now. Why don't we take a walk?"

And, unbelievably, he let Remus go. Remus stumbled, trying to regain his balance, his ribs pounding with pain. He stared up at Greyback—the wolf who had been the center of his nightmares all his life. Greyback was huge—with thick powerful muscles and a heavily scarred face. He held Remus's wand lightly, dangling it from the tips of his fingers, tempting him.

Remus could run. But he'd be leaving behind his only weapon.

And how far could he really get before Greyback caught up to him?

Not far.

Remus set his jaw. He had never been a fighter. He got by on street smarts and quick lies. But Greyback wouldn't fall for any of that. "Give me my want back," he said as evenly as he could muster.

"Oh, that's no fun." Greyback leaned in and ran a callused finger across Remus's jaw, scraping at his skin.

Revulsion swept through Remus. He jolted back. The door rattled as she slammed against it.

Greyback laughed, drawing his hand away. "Come walk with me. I'm a busy man—I don't have all day."

"Busy doing what?" Remus asked through gritted teeth. "Tearing families apart?"

Greyback put on a mockingly sad expression. "Oh, come on, cub. That's not fair. That was a long time ago."

"They were my parents," Remus growled, sounding braver than he felt. "And you killed them."

Then Greyback leaned forward. Put one hand on the wall on either side of Remus, trapping him. Remus could practically feel the wolf's stubble against his skin, smell the blood on his breath. "I know they were cub," Greyback said. "Why do you think I have wanted you for so long?"

Wanted him. Remus felt something shrink inside him. He knew it. All these years. Greyback _had_ been hunting him.

But knowing that, how would he ever be able to escape? It took a moment for Remus to find his courage. "Let me go."

"Haven't you noticed, cub?" Greyback went on. "The wolves always on your tail? I've been following you, Remus Lupin."

Of course Remus noticed. He noticed everything. You had to be smart to make it on the road. You had to be even smarter to have survived a life like Remus's. He made a quick calculation while Greyback talked. Greyback had a wand in each hand—he seemed more intent on threatening than attacking—at least so far.

It could be worth the risk.

So, Remus took a breath, gathered his courage, and shoved Greyback square in the chest to slip away.

Greyback gave way easily—too easily. And as Remus back away, wincing from the pain in his side, Greyback didn't chase him. "Oh, we're not done yet, cub," the king said. "Haven't you grown tired of running from me? Don't you want to just…" Greyback advanced toward him. Remus tried to retreat, but found himself backed up against the wall again. "Surrender?"

Remus shivered. He stared determinately over Greyback's shoulder, not wanting to meet his piercing gaze. As much as he had himself for feeling it, part of him felt an unimaginable stirring of… longing.

What _would_ it feel like to give in? What would it feel like to let himself be caught—and never have to run again?

Greyback noticed the shift in Remus's eyes. He chuckled low, ominous, and leaned in. "I have been after you for a long time, Lupin." Then, in a flash, he grabbed him. Hands closed around Remus's chin, pulling him forward, forcing him to make eye contact. But the king's touch was surprisingly gentle—almost tender. "Do you want to know why that is?"

"No." Remus tried to sound defiant but his voice shook.

Around him, London was starting to come to life. The rush of traffic grew louder—as the sun climbed higher in the sky, the golden dawn cast Greyback in shadow.

"You're special, little cub."

Remus didn't believe it. There was nothing special about him. Another forgotten orphan. Another lost boy.

Even Sirius had given up on him.

"You just want to finish art you started," Remus said. "You killed my parents and now you want to kill me too."

Greyback dropped Remus's chin, raising an eyebrow. "What fun is killing you? You were born to be a wolf."

It took Remus a moment to process that. The thought was so surprising that it hardly even registered. _Him_ a werewolf? All this time, he'd thought the wolves were intent on killing him. But making him one of their own… the thought never occurred to him.

What was he thinking?

Remus shook his head, set his jaw. "No," he said. "I wasn't."

Greyback rolled his eyes. "I'm getting tired of this," he said. "You know who you are deep down. I didn't think I would have to convince you…" He trailed off, gazing at Remus lazily. "I would have thought you knew better."

"What do you mean?"

"You're clever, cub," Greyback said, beginning to pace. The wolf was always apparent in him, but now he swelled with the strength of a predator.

Remus tried not to shrink back, but he couldn't help but feel like a meal. Like a sheep, just waiting for the wolf to strike.

"Where do you think your future is out here?" Greyback asked. "Working in a coffee shop every day? Mooning out the window each night while your lover keeps you waiting?"

A shadow fell over Remus's face. Greyback had no right to talk about that. He had no right to _know_ about that.

But another thought stung underneath that. Where _was_ Sirius?

Why did Remus have to face this alone?

Why did he have to face everything alone?

"With me, you can be special," Greyback said, his voice almost a whisper. "I am looking for family. Don't you want to be part of a pack? Don't you want to give in and just trust?"

He did.

Remus shut his eyes.

He wanted people he could trust. People who would take care of him. He wanted a family.

But Sirius…

"What do you think that boy can offer you?" asked Greyback, as though reading his mind. "Half a room in an old Squib's house? A warm body at night? You think he can provide for you? He couldn't keep you safe from me." Greyback reached out and brushed Remus's broken ribs, where the Fated Ones had kicked him. Pain jolted through him at his touch. Remus flinched. "He couldn't keep you safe from them."

Remus didn't know what to think. The world had turned upside down. Greyback—his enemy—was making sense. And Sirius… well, Sirius felt very far away.

"You're easy prey, little cub," Greyback said. "If the wolves don't get you, someone else will. If you come to us, we can keep you safe." Greyback appraised him and smirked a little. "You ever wonder what it's like to feel strong? To have the power of a wild animal? You wouldn't even need protecting if you were one of us."

Then Greyback surprised Remus. He offered out his wand.

Remus hesitated, staring at the king's outstretched hand, waiting for the trap. Warily, he asked, "Why are you giving it to me?"

"Because I want you to choose," Greyback said. "I don't take anyone by force. Everyone in my pack joins freely." He offered the wand again.

And—slowly—Remus took it.

Greyback smiled. "You come to me, you come willingly."

He spun on his heal—and as he disappeared into the bustle of foot traffic, he looked over his shoulder and said, "See you soon, little cub."


	12. Chapter 12: When the Chips are Down

Chapter Twelve: When the Chips are Down

_Nobody's righteous. Nobody's proud. Nobody's innocent now that the chips are down_.

Remus had spent his whole life hungry. He'd spent his whole life on the run. And Greyback gave him a choice to make. He could continue to fight, continue to hide. Or… he could take Greyback's offer—an end to it all, a sweet surrender, a place to lay down his weapons and rest. He had never considered—not once—the possibility of letting it end. Letting Greyback win.

Remus thought he'd have to die fighting…

But now Greyback was showing him another way.

He could just… let go.

Remus shook his head to clear it. What was he thinking? He gazed up at the sky, at the roofs of their little suburb, the cloudy morning sky, speckled with gold beams of the dawn. Their little room in Mrs. Figg's house. Triple espressos in the morning and fire whiskey at night. How could he leave all of this?

And Sirius…

Remus took off, charging toward their alley, his wand tight in his grip. His shift started in just ten minutes. He was going to be late. What was he doing—daydreaming about the worst possible thing, the ultimate betrayal?

Remus blinked hard, ran his hand through his hair, tried to ground himself—here, in London, here in this dark alley, here in a world that had been turned upside down—where he no longer knew his true north.

But just as he was about to Disapparate, a pair of rough hands shoved him forward. Remus stumbled into the wall. The dull ache of his ribs exploded with a sharp pain.

And before Remus saw them, he knew—the Fated Ones had come for him again.

"What's the matter, little cub?"

The Small One advanced on him. She had a manic glint in her eye. The three of them stood in impressive silhouette, dark shadows cut against the sky. And all at once, Remus knew they had heard the whole conversation with Greyback—that they had possibly even been summoned here by him.

"I don't want any trouble," Remus said, even though he knew it was no use. Even though he knew there was no reasoning with them.

"We're not going to hurt you," the Tall One said, affecting a wounded voice.

"We're not going to _make_ you do anything," said the Broad One.

"The choice is yours." The Small One gave him a nasty smile. "Greyback doesn't force anyone to join his pack and neither do we. You're going to decide to join all on your own."

He wasn't. It was unthinkable. He hated them for suggesting it. Remus held his wand firm, raising it threateningly.

But the three wolves only smiled.

"Little cub, you think you can hurt us?" asked the Small One.

"We're stronger than you can ever imagined," said the Broad One.

"And you could be too."

They said they weren't going to attack him, but could he believe that? Remus, desperate, shot a stunning spell, but they blocked it with ease.

"No boyfriend to protect you," said the Broad One. "And wounded already. You couldn't take us on."

Remus hated to admit that they were right. Together, he and Sirius could easily fight them, but alone…

And he always seemed to be alone these days, didn't he?

The Fated Ones seemed to read his mind. Remember, they had a gift for cruelty. They could peer into your heart and whisper in your ear all the worst things you believed about yourself.

"You are weak alone," said the Small One. "And you're _always_ alone."

"Your little Sirius isn't coming back."

"He can't save you."

"It's you against the world, little cub."

Desperately, Remus shot another stunning spell, but the Broad One blocked it, laughing. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

"When the game is over, when your boyfriend leaves you for good, what then?"

"He's not going to leave me," Remus said, but he could hear the doubt in his voice—and the Fated Ones could too.

"Oh, really?" asked the Tall One. "Look around you."

"He already has."

Remus's heart ached—it hurt all the way down to his soul. The world was shifting under his feet and he couldn't grasp hold of anything. Was it true?

He loved Sirius. He knew that. But did Sirius love him? How could he when he had entirely abandoned him? Sirius had promised to give him a home—to keep him safe from the wolves—but now that the chips were down—now that the wolves were at his door—Sirius was nowhere to be found.

"I have to go to work," Remus said shakily.

"But why go to work at all?" asked the Small One.

"Are you just going to work every day until you die?"

"You know Greyback can always find you there."

"You know you'll have to run again soon."

"Stop!" Remus wanted to clamp his hands over his ears, to not listen to a word the Fated Ones were saying—but they had already found their way into his heart. He already started to believe them.

"It's a dog eat dog world," the Broad One said.

"Wolf eat wolf," chuckled the Tall One.

"The only way to survive it is to take care of yourself. That boy isn't going to save you. You can't save him."

"You know who makes sacrifices to help people?" asked the Small One. "Prey."

"You have to look out for yourself—because no one else is going to."

"Choose, cub," said the Broad One. "Whatever you want. You can go on running for the rest of your life. We'll let you go. Or you could come with us. Give in. Start a new life with a home and a family, with a pack that would never leave you."

Remus stared at the three of them, trying to hold onto the world he had known, trying to remember what he had once believed. Hadn't he made the decision to put down his burden? When he and Sirius became one that night, months ago, hadn't he made the decision to trust?

He trusted Sirius.

At least, he wanted to trust him.

Reader, I don't know what exactly happened. I don't know what the final straw was. Remus was proud—he was devastated. He loved Sirius with his whole heart—but loving someone does not stop us from betraying them. And Sirius was not blameless. After all, he wasn't there. Remus needed him—and he wasn't there.

Like I said, we betray each other with a million small decisions. The path is long—and sometimes we don't notice we're on it until it's too late.

The second Remus began to believe the Fated Ones, he was lost.

The second he believed strength was more important than love, that fear was more powerful than devotion, he had made his choice.

And that was the Fated One's great power. This coven of sisters, this vicious pack of wolves—they could make anyone lose faith. Even in what they believed in most. They could sow doubt anywhere. They did it to Remus—and, later, to Sirius too.

Remus stared at the Fated Ones, these vicious ageless girls. And—slowly—he began to believe they had a point.

He could choose… And what if he stopped running?

What if he closed his eyes and let the wolves take him?

His whole life, he'd been afraid of Fenrir Greyback. But now he had met him—face to face. Was he really so bad?

If Remus was a wolf too—he shuddered at the thought—he wouldn't have to run anymore. They couldn't kill him. They could be his _family_. And, impossibly, Remus felt something soften at the thought. He had always wanted a family—as every orphan secretly does.

For a while, he thought Sirius could become his family.

And in another world, it might have happened.

But this was not that other world. This was a world of ghosts and wolves. This was a world without happy endings.

Sirius had his heart. Remus knew he was his one true love. Remus knew they were born for each other.

But he also knew that he was tired. That he was hungry. That he wanted—just for once—to not fight for his life. To look out into the great beyond and feel power instead of fear.

In another world, Remus could have followed his heart. He could have stayed.

But this was not that world. Remus whispered to himself, almost praying. "Sirius… forgive me."

And then he made his choice. He put his wand down and stepped toward the Fated Ones with open hands. "Okay," he said. "I'll go with you."

The Fated Ones didn't celebrate as he expected. They didn't launch themselves on him and drag him into the abyss. They didn't howl with victory.

But their faces sharpened with triumph. They looked even more hungry, even more deadly.

The Tall One grabbed him—not to attack him, but to pull him into a clumsy half-hug. Almost like he was a friend. Remus held back a gasp of pain—his ribs still hurt, a lot. "Welcome to the family, brother," she growled. And without another word, they led him away—down through the Muggle tube lines, down to the Underworld.

And just like that—Remus Lupin was gone.

I hope you don't judge him too harshly, reader. I hope you don't judge me for watching.

This is a hard world, a brutal world. I learned the lesson long ago—when you're a ghost, there is only so much you can change.

Maybe I wasn't as powerless as I felt.

I don't know.

What I do know is that this is the way the story goes. And we can hope and fight—but sometimes we cannot change our destiny. Sometimes, we cannot help but betray one another.


	13. Chapter 13: Wait for Me

Chapter Thirteen: Wait for Me

_I'm coming—wait for me. I hear the walls repeating the falling of my feet and it sounds like drumming._

Sirius arrived back at his flat just hours later, flushed with victory. He had done it—he had finally transformed completely. A great black dog—he couldn't believe it. After years of toil, he _did it_. The dog could fight. The dog could hold its own against Greyback and his wolves. It would be perfect—it would all be perfect.

But when he got back home, Remus wasn't there.

And he wasn't at the cafe either. A harried Marlene told him the shop had still been closed when she arrived for the afternoon shift. Their boss, of course, was furious.

Sirius didn't know what to do. Trying to stave off the edge of panic, he Apparated back to his apartment, stood in the very alley where Remus had left with the Fated Ones, just hours ago. The sun was high in the sky and the afternoon heat beat down on his back.

But Remus was gone—and although Sirius didn't know it at the time—he wasn't come back.

Desperate, Sirius called, "Regulus?"

"Oh, look, Mr. Animagus himself."

I must confess, reader—I was angry. I hope you can forgive me. It is not—after all—very easy to be a ghost. To watch and have no power to intervene. To tell the story but not get to change how it unfolds.

Sirius frowned at me, confused by my sudden coldness. "Where is Remus?" he asked.

"Oh, you want to know now?" I said bitterly, and even as I did, some small part of me winced at my cruelty. I couldn't help it. My brother's abandonment hurt deeper than I could imagine—and all I had to fight back was my own fury.

Perhaps I was more like our parents than I wanted to believe.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm sure you'll find another boyfriend soon enough."

I started to glide away. But this was a bluff—and both Sirius and I knew it. As angry as I was, we both knew I could never turn my back on him completely.

"Where is he?" Sirius asked—and his shaking voice betrayed the emotion that couldn't hide from me.

"Why are you looking for him? You've been ignoring him for weeks. Why bother now, after all this time?"

"Because he—because I'm his—" Sirius gaped at me, flabbergasted by my anger. But as he stared, a realization slowly clicked into place. I was not an angry person. I didn't rage or fight or go cold for no reason. For me to be angry, something terrible must have happened.

Something that was his own fault.

"Regulus…" Sirius said, and for the first time in his life, he sounded deeply, truly, afraid. "He's the love of my life. I don't know what happened. I don't know what I did. But I'll fix it. I'll do anything I have to do to fix it. Just tell me where he is. "

And his brokenness cracked me open. I let myself glide back toward him. If I were solid, I could have grabbed his hand. I could have hugged him. I hated myself for breaking the news, for being the one to break his heart. But he had to know.

He had to know where Remus had gone. What he had done.

"He's with the wolves," I said.

Sirius—naive, innocent, hopeful—could not wrap his head around it. "With the wolves?"

"With Greyback and the others." I glanced back to the door of their home, back where Remus had met his fate. "Greyback came to find him just this morning. He took him away. Remus called for you. But he knew you wouldn't come. He hadn't seen you in days. He needed you."

The words hit Sirius like a blow. Slowly, he sank to the ground, his eyes haunted. "I didn't know," he said, hollow. "I was so focused on my training."

I didn't absolve him. I couldn't forgive him—not yet. Remus's pain pulled the scab off an old wound of mine. Sirius, the abandoner—Sirius who had left us to fend for ourselves against monsters.

And before I said anything else, Sirius inhaled sharply. He snapped his gaze to mine—his eyes fixed and determined. "I'm going after him."

"What?" It was my turn to be stunned. No one had ever gone down to the Underworld and came back still human.

"I'm going to the Underworld. To Greyback's. Wherever Remus is." Sirius pushed himself up and started walking, seemingly at random, starting in any direction just to do something, just to keep moving.

"Sirius—wait—"

But he wouldn't listen. My anger had pushed him too far and now all he had was himself. Typical Sirius. Proud and heartbroken and reckless. He wouldn't ask for help. He'd drive himself to certain death to make up for what he had done.

"Sirius!"

He was unreachable, lost in his anger and his grief. Desperate, I tried the only thing I could think of to get him to stop. I floated right through him.

The shock of it hit Sirius at once. Like being plunged in a lake of ice water. He spun around, his eyes sharp. "What?"

"It's dangerous. No one has ever gotten out of there alive—"

"Regulus, I don't care," Sirius interrupted. He was all fire—the white hot love he felt for Remus burning like a sun in his eyes. "Do you know where it is?"

"Yes," I said, reluctantly. "But it's dangerous. Sirius, you're risking everything." My bitterness at him was long gone. In its place was fear—cold as ice. I couldn't lose Sirius—not after all this time. And he wouldn't come back as a ghost if he died—I knew that more than anyone.

We stood in stalemate for a moment, our eyes locked. Sirius's grief radiated off him in waves. And as afraid as I was, as heartbroken as I felt, I knew I couldn't stop him from following the boy he loved to the end of the earth.

"Do you really want to go?" I asked in a small voice.

And finally, Sirius's anger crumbled. With no pride or rebelliousness or courage on his face, he looked like the boy I had known. Like the scared little kid I had loved, who did his best to stand up to our parents, who did his best to protect me, but who could never do enough. Just a child trying to to fight the evils of the world, which were larger and way more powerful than himself. A desperately hopeful boy in a ruined world.

"Regulus…" he said. "I love him. He is the only thing in this world that makes sense. I would do anything for him. I would die for him."

Sirius stood there against the city, his expression shattered—his heart bleeding on his sleeve. Defiant. Heartbroken. Brave. Grieving. Scared. Desperately in love. Sirius was all of these things—and more. And I had no doubt he would find a way to get Remus back.

I had to help him.

"You really want to go to the Underworld?" I said. "It's going to be a long road—you can't go the way the wolves take—it's too dangerous without their protection. You'll have to go around the back."

"I'll do it. Anything."

And I knew Sirius meant it.

So I told him the way. Whispered it in his ear. Up north, on the outskirts of London, way past an unused Tube stop. The train lines provided a clear—but dangerous—path. The Muggle trains were deadly, even to a wizard like Sirius. And that was even before the monsters. Before the traps that Greyback laid out, and the wolves that came out when the moon was ripe.

Sirius left immediately. He didn't pack a thing, didn't prepare for a moment. All he had was his wand and his broken heart.

And without waiting, without thinking, Sirius ran off into the night.

* * *

It was days before he found the entrance of the underground. I could direct him to it the best I could, but Greyback's enchantments made it unplottable. When he finally got to the entrance of the underground, Sirius transformed.

I had to marvel at his dog form—it was my first time seeing it. Huge—almost bearlike—with terrible claws and razor sharp teeth.

We moved through the shadows, Sirius as a dog, me as a glimmer in the corner of his eye.

Twice, he narrowly avoided the train, transforming back to his human shape and leaping out of the way in the nick of time.

Through the whole journey, I whispered in his ear. "Be careful of Greyback's cronies. They can be bribed, but if you don't have anything, you'll have to fight them. Don't tell them who you are. Don't tell them anything."

Sirius was unshakeable. No amount of fear or threat or monsters would stop him. Determination coursed through him like a river. He was going to save Remus—I just knew it. He would do anything to get him back.

* * *

We had been traveling in silence for days. Weeks. It was hard to keep track of time. Sirius lived the off rats he scrounged from the tunnels. He stayed in dog form and ate them raw. We'd finally gotten past the Muggle trains—and crawled through the unused tunnels.

Low light, a dank stench, a steady drip of water from high above. The tunnels were lit only by dim, glowing lamps, that swam in and out of focus as we pushed on. The Underworld was a terrible place. And we weren't even in the heart of it yet—we hadn't yet passed the gates.

Sirius stayed in dog form. I think it was easier for him like that. Less to fear. Less to feel.

Were we getting close? I didn't know. I lost all sense of direction. I had been here before, of course, but I avoided it like the plague. I had died here. I had lost everything here. I did not fancy going back.

"Who are you?"

The voices caught both Sirius and me by surprise. He snapped his head up and saw before him the Fated Ones—lit by the ghostly light of their wands, their faces harsh.

"You're no dog," said the Tall One.

"This is wolf territory," said the Broad One.

The Small One stepped forward, her eyes terrible. "We don't let humans down here. Now why don't you tell us who you are? Or we can find out our way."

Throughout all of this, I hid. My presence would be too revealing. But I prayed for Sirius to keep his head. To hold his own and not let the Fated Ones intimidate him. It was so hard to know what he was thinking in dog form.

How had the Fated Ones found us? How had they known? Was there some kind of Trace on us? They were powerful, of course, but this was a magic unlike any I'd seen before.

"Come on," the Small One went on, raising her wand threateningly. "You better tell us."

Sirius did not cower. He did not take the bait. He barked, and the tunnels echoed it terribly, making the Fated One's hair stand on edge. He crouched, snarling preparing to attack. But still the Fated Ones did not back down.

So Sirius pounced.

Teeth bared, drool falling from his snarling lips, he bounded at them—

And the Fated Ones scattered.

They disappeared fast—faster than was possible—and disappeared deep into the tunnels, yelping. Sirius and I watched them go, our satisfaction at chasing them off not quite masking all the fresh new doubts they had sown.

They were not cowards. They rarely backed down from a fight. If they were running, it was because their intention was to taunt, not to attack.

And how had they known we were coming? How had they disappeared so fast? It was not a good omen to see them. And it was not a good omen for them to know intruders were on the way.

I wish I could have told Sirius that we were almost there. I wished I could have reassured him. But we were a long way away—and the path was dangerous.

And Sirius moved on.

I could have sworn I heard him whisper—or maybe it was just the pounding of his heart. "I'm coming, Remus, I'm coming. Wait for me."


	14. Chapter 14: Why We Build the Wall

Chapter Fourteen: Why We Build the Wall

_Why do we build the wall? We build the wall to keep us free. That's why we build the wall. We build the wall to keep us free._

The day of the full moon, just before twilight, Greyback held a rally.

The Underworld was made mostly of tunnels—of twists and dead ends and half forgotten chambers only big enough to hold a handful of wolves. The rallying place was at a crossroads of sorts—an intersection of several dark tunnels, with enough of an opening in the center to give Greyback some room to work the crowd. The pack stretched hundreds back in all directions, hungry and hollow hearted.

It stank. There were countless wolves packed tight—their clothes unwashed, their bodies thick with grime. How many people had Greyback turned in his fight for power? Two hundred? Five hundred? It was impossible too say. The masses blended into one being, snarling and bloodthirsty, glassy eyed and dull, all at once.

Not to discount their former humanity. These people were humans once. They had parents who loved them—passions, hobbies—pets—people they loved. Greyback took that all from them. He seduced them to this world, lying through his teeth—and turned them into something like him. An angry ghost—a spirit who just wanted to take and take and take—one that would never would be satisfied.

Every wolf lost themselves in the underworld: their friends, their fears, their names—all forgotten. The pack was a single being, sharing a heart, sharing a mind. The individuals were just cogs in the machine—with Greyback at the controls.

Today, the king stood before his people, regal and commanding. His robes were torn, showing off his enormous muscles. He didn't wear any jewels or crowns. He didn't need to. With his stature and snarling grin, there was no doubt who was in charge.

Ylva—poor Ylva—stood beside him—as tucked into the shadows as she could get. It was not easy to be Greyback's daughter. To be royalty of a group you wanted no part of. Her eyes were hardened with misery and misted over with the haze of alcohol.

"The full moon approaches, cubs," Greyback said. His voice boomed over the crowd and was echoed with cheers. "It is the time when we get to be our true selves. When we get to show the world who we really are."

More cheers. Ylva stood, silent, her hands clenched into fists.

"Wizard kind has long hated us…" Greyback paced as he spoke—and there was something of the animal in him even then. "But they hate us because they fear us. And they fear us because of our power." Greyback stopped pacing—he took in his pack—his children—his family—and a sinister sort of happiness flowed through him. "We can show them how powerful we are," he said. "We can give them a taste of this power." He bared his teeth as the crowd howled with delight.

They had big plans for that full moon. To threaten every human they could. To keep wizard kind so afraid that they would happily choose being a werewolf over losing their lives. The smart or the wealthy had protections of course, but the weak were deliciously vulnerable. The wolves would find them—and make them powerful too.

Greyback preyed on the vulnerable. And his victims had not forgotten what it felt like to be weak. They could never forget that animal fear—the fear of prey.

They could find the people like them—and show them. They didn't have to be prey anymore. They, too, could be predators.

"My cubs, go out and do good work tonight," Greyback said. "Children are especially valuable. Show the world how strong they can be. One bite at a time."

Now, Remus was a long way away, but he could hear the cheering. He crept through the tunnel, afraid of what he might find. When he got to the back of one the crowd, he started pushing through, brushing against the dirty shoulders of his new family.

Nobody noticed him. They didn't even _look_ at him. Remus paused, staring up at the nearest werewolf—a woman, maybe in her fifties. Her face was painted in triumph, her eyes alight with Greyback's message. But she didn't notice Remus standing only inches from her. Or maybe she didn't care.

There was something almost alien… something robotic about these people. It was almost like they were…

Cursed.

Remus shook his head and pushed forward. No, that couldn't be it. He hadn't spent much time around werewolves after all. Maybe it was just the full moon's influence. Maybe the transformation started earlier than Remus had thought.

He pushed the thought down. There was no time to worry, no time to dwell now. He had made his decision. And there was no going back.

Once he worked his way to the center of the room, he felt bolder. He saw Greyback, standing at the center of his people—proud, fatherly. And his people—his wolves—clearly adored him. Remus didn't see the squalor—didn't notice the blood stains on the walls, the hollow faces and hopeless eyes. He only saw a community—one like he'd never had. Almost like a family.

Greyback's eyes met his—and a triumphant sheen sparked in them. "My children, you are powerful enough to change the world," the king said. "Go enjoy the full moon. I will be here to hear all of your successes. Go!"

And the pack ran off. Remus stood as the flood parted around him. There was something electric about the rush of bodies and adrenaline—something crackling in the air. It reminded Remus of kissing Sirius…

No. He couldn't think about that. His life with Sirius was over. Remus took a deep breath and looked around at the dingy walls, the dark tunnels, the desperate youths clinging onto any ounce of power they could.

This was his life now.

"Remus Lupin." Greyback stood zeroed in on him and stalked forward. His usual sinister smirk spread across his lips—and fear, desperate, bolting fear, struck through Remus. This was the man who killed his parents. This was the man he'd spent his whole life running from. No. Remus clenched his fists, set his jaw. He chose this. It would be a better life. It had to be.

"I'm here," Remus said.

That's when he noticed Ylva. She was almost entirely in shadow—like she wanted to disappear. But her place of honor was undeniable. She really _was_ Greyback's kid. And as she met his gaze, all Remus could see was her grief, her pity. Like she never wanted him to come here.

Remus shook his head to clear it. The couldn't be right. Ylva was a _wolf_. Just like Greyback. Just like he was about to become. And wolves did not feel fear or regret.

"We have some business to attend to," Greyback said, stepping forward. "Why don't you step into my office?" He gestured down a tunnel.

Remus shared a brief glance with Ylva and nearly quailed under the weight of her grief. It was more than he could bear.

He looked away. He chose this. He wanted this. There was no going back now.

He followed Greyback down into the dark tunnel.

Greyback led him to a small room—barely bigger than Sirius's bedroom—that had a narrow strip of window near the ceiling. "I like to feel the moon on my skin," Greyback explained.

And—like lead dropping—it all clicked into place. It was the full moon. Tonight. Greyback was going to bite him _now_. There really was no turning back.

The bolt slid shut behind him. Remus didn't look back.

"Oh, no need to act so scared," Greyback said, leaning lazily against the wall. The patch of light from the window framed his face. And Remus could see the darkening sky reflected in his eyes, the bright fierce rays of sunset long gone. "You wanted this, remember? You agreed to this."

Remus knew. He remembered. He tried to put aside his fear, push away the seedling of regret growing in him. Wolves did not fear. Wolves did not regret.

"I have been waiting for this moment for years, cub," Greyback said, stepping forward, so that he stood close. Too close.

Remus could smell the blood and sweat and rage on him. He could see the jagged, pointed teeth.

In a sudden motion, Greyback grabbed Remus's jaw, held it with a painful grip. Remus fought to not flinch. But he hated staring into those small, cruel eyes.

"I told you," Greyback said, reeking of lazy triumph. "There is no running from me."

And then—the moon rose—and Greyback changed.

It happened slowly at first—his body growing rigid, a manic light behind his eye. The king shuddered and dropped Remus's jaw.

Remus stumbled back—but there was nowhere to go. All he could do was look on in horror as Greyback's body transformed. His spine elongated. Coarse fur sprouted form his skin. His face grew sharp in a muzzle and longed deadly claws emerged from his hands.

And in the blink of an eye, Remus was facing the king of the wolves.

Greyback as a wolf was huge—all powerful shoulders and impossibly long claws. A snarling, panting monster, prowling, nearly as tall as the ceiling. Greyback looked more _himself_ than Remus had ever seen him in human form.

And though his heart was quailing, though his fear drowned nearly the entire world behind him, Remus tried to muster some courage. Maybe, when he was a wolf, he would look natural too. Maybe it would suit him. Maybe he was born to be a monster.

Greyback the wolf stopped pacing. He stared at Remus dead on and snarled.

And then—he pounced.

They collapsed onto the floor. Remus's head slammed into the ground. His broken ribs shot with pain. He felt the weight of Greyback's body on top of him. His breath hot on his skin. The shape claws held him down—pinned him, hard, cutting into his skin. Even though he wasn't fighting. Remus felt a jolt of panic. Why was Greyback pinning him so hard? He wasn't fighting.

Greyback bared his teeth, aimed for somewhere safe—maybe he had learned his lesson from me. Remus tried not to shake as the king took his arm in his jaws. He tried not to resist.

And then—Greyback bit down.


	15. Chapter 15: Our Lady of the Underground

**CW for this chapter:** Trauma, flashback to violence, death of children and parents, binge drinking and alcoholism

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Our Lady of the Underground

_Six feet under, getting under your skin. Cabin fever is a-setting in._

Her stash was almost empty. Ylva laid in her bed, hand clutched around a tall vodka soda—heavy on the vodka, light on the soda—trying to suppress the memories that haunted her. Alcohol made the ghosts quiet. So did friends. Or a pretty girl to kiss. But alcohol was easier to find. Ylva had never gotten the hang of other people.

But that wasn't quite true. Ylva took a long pull from her drink. She couldn't even taste it anymore. The burn of ethanol hardly registered.

Other people _did_ like her. She was great at making friends. Just not great at keeping them. Every time she got away from the Underworld for long enough, whenever she got to be around people, bright and laughing, flawed and human, she got along with them great. That was never the issue. It was once they got to know her—once they found out who she really was—_what_ she really was—that the problems started.

No one wanted anything to do with someone like her.

Marlene's face burned in her memory. Her soft lips, that hard glint in her eye, her laugh—brash and loud—like sandpaper. Their bodies pressed together, hot under the covers.

Ylva drank again. She couldn't think about that. She couldn't let herself remember. It was too painful. Marlene would never come back to her, Ylva knew that. Those golden few weeks were long gone. And they were never coming back.

Now—the more pressing issue was her stash. She'd stolen a fair bit of booze from the Muggle world—and would happily do it again, but her father had her under lock and key. She couldn't even move freely through the Underworld without him or one of the goddamn Fated Ones to chaperone her.

Ylva strained for freedom. She liked to live large and loud. She liked to be in a crowd, one body among many. She liked dancing and winking at every pretty girl who passed her by. She couldn't live like this—shut in, claustrophobic, with no one but her father for company.

And she definitely couldn't live without more booze.

She pushed herself out of bed. The world tipped. Ylva stumbled a few steps before catching herself agains the wall. Okay, maybe too much booze—just for now. She hook her head to clear it—but that turned out to be a mistake. The room swam in and out of focus—and she felt as though she were on very bumpy boat ride.

She caught herself against the wall. Her hands pressed against brick, solid, sturdy. The floor was lurching, and she knew she wouldn't be able to stay on her feet for long. Her lips were numb. The tips of her fingers like corpses'. And slowly, she sank to the ground. Safe.

Too much. It was all too much. Ylva wanted to drink more—to push herself down into the corner of herself—to squash any feelings she had. But she could feel the alcohol curling through her veins, could feel the poison creeping into her mind, making her see, making her remember….

_No_.

Ylva squeezed her eyes shut. As if she could hide from the memories. As if they wouldn't haunt her every moment.

"No…"

She clutched her head. Her vodka soda clattered to the ground beside her. What had happened? Maybe she'd knocked it over. She didn't remember taking it with her to the ground. She didn't remember anything about that night.

But she did remember before.

She remembered a night, long ago, blood red and angry.

She would do anything for the memories to stop. She'd be good and stay in the Underworld forever. She would never drink again.

But that wasn't enough. She lived hard—always with a new idea, a new joke, a new skip in her step. Only moving forward kept the past from catching her.

But the past was here. Now. As fresh as ever. And as the room swam in and out of focus, there was nothing Ylva could do but succumb.

* * *

She was a bright child. A shining child. With freckles burnt onto her cheeks and always tangled hair. She was at that age where she was missing more teeth than not. A big gap sat right in the front of her mouth, where her tongue poked through.

All her brothers adored her. Her father too. Ylva was the apple of everyone's eye.

It was a fun childhood. It was a wild childhood. She counted down to the full moon every month like it was Christmas. Getting to run free with her brothers—getting to be the animal she was meant to be.

Until.

Until.

Her memory scrambled for purchase. It found the hardened shell of protection, the cocoon she'd spent decades building for herself, and tore right through it—the barrier she'd built up carefully with booze and loud music and staying up until the sun rose, torn down as easily as paper mache. The memory, so sharp, ever present—breathed down her neck.

This was before everything. Before the Underworld and before the Fated Ones. Before the world became a piece of meat for her father to devour. They'd just been a family. She and her three brothers. Their dad, so strong, so powerful—they knew nothing could hurt them with him to protect them.

But her brothers had run. They'd gone to her mother. She didn't know why. They'd been a happy family, hadn't they? Four feral kids and their feral dad.

But something had driven the boys away. Was it her? Was it him?

They'd run to their mother's house, their human mother—the woman who Greyback had loved and never turned. Why? The woman who had left him to live back among humans. Why?

The questions pressed into her like hot knives. Each one was an alternate path. A fork in the road that could have led to another outcome. A happily ever after.

The boys had gone to there mother. Hungry. Desperate. Scared.

Scared of what? Of Greyback?

Of her?

Or maybe.

Or maybe they'd left. Defiant. Hopeful. Wanting a better future.

Maybe they'd left her behind.

Ylva didn't know. She didn't know.

They had run and when they arrived, a team of Aurors was waiting for them.

It was a trap.

It had all been a trap.

And because they were Greyback's, because they were their father's sons, they didn't go down quietly. They didn't give in. They went down fighting.

Ylva and her father had arrived only minutes later. Hardly the blink of an eye. He had clutched her tiny body—shaking, lonely—and pulled her along as he Disapparated.

They appeared in a house heavy with death.

The boys. The Aurors. Her mother.

Everyone was dead.

And because Greyback was Greyback, he didn't cover her eyes. He didn't take her home to hide her. He didn't shield her from the fear and danger and animal terror of this world.

She was a wolf—and wolves had to be brave.

Greyback pulled her through the wreckage. Past the gore and the shattered windows and the bodies.

Why had her brothers been killed? Why had her mother? Why had any of this happened?

Her child brain couldn't process it. Her adult brain still could not.

It was too horrible to look at—but Ylva did not hide her eyes. Instead, she crawled into the deepest pocket of herself—let the rest of her harden like a shell. Like a shield.

Why had this happened?

Greyback had his answer immediately. Humans. Humans caused this. They couldn't let the wolves live free in their power, in their strength. Humans were the root of all their problems.

Even as a child, Ylva didn't believe that. But it didn't matter. Greyback had his answer—he'd found his war cry. And he would stop at nothing to eradicate every last human on earth.

And Ylva would spend the rest of her life wondering, the rest of her life fearing. The rest of her waking moments running from the grief that haunted her.

* * *

I have learned a lot since dying. It is easy enough to watch and listen and learn everyone's secrets. It is easy enough to see the petty problems and fears people run from.

And here is one thing that is true for everyone: there is no hiding from history.

We build walls around us. We tell stories. We strain against the leash, running to the future, so that we never have to look back. So we can avoid the shadows lurking over our shoulders.

But it never works.

Through all these years of being dead, I've learned this most of all:

Sooner or later, your ghosts will find you.


	16. Chapter 16: Way Down Hadestown (Reprise)

Chapter Sixteen: Way Down Hadestown (Reprise)

_A lot of spirits gotta break to make the Underworld go round._

Remus did not have good first month in the Underworld.

Healing from the bite took weeks. He'd holed up, feverish and green. The wound bled for two days before scabbing over. How much blood could he lose before dying? How long was he going to have to wait for somebody to help him?

Remus could hardly move. The bite burned, hot and inflamed, on his arm. He could feel other scratches healing, hard and scabbed, across the rest of his body. A gash across his face stung every time he moved. Blood had dried dark brown on his torn robes.

Curled into a ball, Remus grieved the life he'd chosen. He mourned for his own loneliness, the wounds that cut much deeper than flesh. He knew, deep down, that no one was coming to help him.

He sweated and starved for a full week—hardly able to move. The pain made him delirious. More than once, he thought he saw Sirius—and would try to call out—but his voice was too weak. It cracked on his lips. And Remus would watch the phantom fade, realizing again, the pain fresh once more, just how alone he was.

Once, he thought he saw Ylva—but what was she doing down here? Then he remembered she belonged here—these were her people—and a chill would rush through him.

Nobody came for him.

He was saved only by the Fated Ones bringing him a glass of fresh water every day.

What Greyback doesn't tell his charges is that this is a trial. You are just as likely to die—unhealed, unloved—as you are to survive to full wolfhood.

Greyback wanted only the strong ones. Only the ones who could get through their bitter loneliness, the despair of finding themselves unloved, uncared for, all the way down in the pits of hell. The wolves who emerged from the trial were powerful and angry and easy to control.

The transition killed me. I was too weak.

But Remus was made of stronger stuff. He got through that first week and—once he had recovered enough to stagger a few steps—found food laid out—a whole banquet—just outside his den. It was disgusting fare. Spoiled meat and rock hard bread. Remus ate it anyway. A new kind of hunger yawned in him—bottomless, ravenous, animal.

He gained his footing as the moon moved through its cycle. Replenishing himself on the rotten leftovers the Fated Ones threw to him like scraps. Once he was strong enough, he scavenged his own food, and soon he was back on his feet, coursing with power.

But no matter how strong he got, the other wolves wouldn't talk to him. They wouldn't look at him.

Remus watched them coming and going, trying to figure it out. They moved like shadows. Like ghosts. They were merely bodies, going about their business as though someone else were pulling the strings. No light sparked behind their eyes. They never spoke, except to fight. Never felt, except raw anger. Never moved, except when commanded to.

Remus found himself alone in a sea of sleepers. And the safe stable family he had hoped to find here crumbled in his hands.

He claws.

He was a wolf now, after all.

Only the Fated Ones would talk to him—though _talk_ may have been too kind a word. They followed him like harpies, waiting for any flicker of despair to cross his face, then pounding on it.

"Little cub afraid of his new home?"

"Does he want his big strong boyfriend to come save him?"

"No one is saving you."

"No one is coming for you."

"No one cares that you are here."

"ENOUGH!" Remus shoved the nearest Fated One and they scattered, cackling, darting through the crowd of wolves and disappearing into the tunnels. But Remus felt no relief seeing them go. He knew they would be back. They always came back.

The weeks went by. His wounds healed into scars, taut and shiny. He got thinner—a hollowness filling him, tugging at his eyes. When he saw the other wolves around him, all he could see was their hunger—the emptiness swallowing them up.

They hadn't always been like this. Remus knew they had been like him once. They had all come to the Underworld naive. They had agreed to let Greyback turn them, hoping it would bring them some meaning, hoping it would bring them a family.

But Greyback never delivered on his promises.

A king didn't have to.

And, Remus thought, despairing, he had been a fool to ever think he would.

The day before the next full moon, Remus crowded with the other wolves. The tunnels stank. Bodies jostled, unwashed all around him. Even before the sunset, the moon was having an effect. Remus felt it, stirring up his blood, making his muscle strong and agile. A feral kind of power rose in him and he couldn't bite it down.

A tide of wolves moved through the tunnels. The Underworld was spread out, a labyrinth of sewers and abandoned tube stations. But the day before the full moon, every wolf in the pack converged at the nexus. They moved like dreamers, legs carrying them forward, even though their eyes stayed dull and empty.

"Where are you going?" Remus tried to ask a few people who passed. But it was like they couldn't hear him.

"Hey!" He grabbed someone's arm, a thin man, about his age. "What's going on?"

But the man shook him off, snarling. It was almost mechanical—like he was under some kind of spell.

_Everyone_ looked like they were under a spell.

Remus stood for a long time—a boulder blocking the flow of a river, the tides parting around him. Finally, a bump on his shoulder jolted him out of his meditation—and he knew without looking that it was the Fated Ones.

"What are you waiting for, club?" asked the Small One. "Join your siblings."

"I have a name, you know," Remus said, not looking at them.

"Not down here you don't," said the Broad One. "You think _they_ have names?" She pointed to the steady migration of wolves.

"I'm not like them," Remus said. And to prove his point, he fired a jet of sparks from his wand to the ceiling of the tunnel. They cracked and fizzled, but none of the wolves reacted. His stomach sank, as it confirmed his suspicions. "They've been enchanted. Cursed."

"You're not like them_ yet_," the Tall One said. "What do you think is going to happen to you ten moons from now?"

Remus stared at her. He knew it was bait. He knew they were trying to goad him into a fight. But he couldn't resist taking it—the thought was too terrible. "I won't be like that."

"You won't?" asked the Broad One in mock surprise. "You sure about that?"

"Take a good look at yourself, cub" said the Small One. "You already are."

Remus started. He had—unwillingly, unwittingly, joined the tide, marching to Greyback's rally. Without thinking, he'd walked through half a mile of tunnels. He stopped—one of the enchanted wolves bumped into him, before the crowd parted around him once more. "I have to go."

"Go where?" asked the Small One.

"Back home."

"What home?" asked the Broad One. "The one where you watched your parents die?"

"Or all the places you took shelter?" asked the Tall One. "The empty warehouses and group homes?"

"No." Remus clutched his head. The world he knew before seemed so far away now. Like a thread of a dream, half-forgotten and foggy. Was this part of the enchantment? He strained his mind, desperate to remember.

Then, slowly, long forgotten images came to him. A coffee shop—triple espressos, armchairs, weak morning light. Remus squeezed his eyes shut. The smell of leather and cloves. A strong tattooed chest. A devil-may-care smirk.

"Sirius," he said, his eyes flying open. "I have to go back to Sirius."

The Fated Ones all burst into laughter. Remus turned to stare at them, his heart sinking.

"You think he'd have you back?" the Broad One asked.

"You think he _ever_ wanted you?"

"Yes." But even as he said it, Remus started to doubt himself. Sirius _had_ wanted him—hadn't he? He had _loved_ him. He thought…

"Look at yourself," said the Small One. "You're broken and scarred."

"Even if he wanted you before, he won't now."

"You're a monster, now."

"An animal."

"What would happen at the full moon?"

"This is your home now. This is your family."

"STOP!" Remus covered his ears and stumbled back. He had to get away from them. Had to have some peace. To _think._ To remember. To shake off whatever magic was making him forget.

As he staggered from the tunnels—a fish swimming upstream—he expected the Fates Ones to follow—but at last, mercifully, they did not. He pushed through the crowd of wolves, trying to forget, trying not to hear. He didn't know where he was going—but he had to get _away_.

"You can try to run, little cub," called the Tall One, over the crowd. "But there is no hiding from the moon."


	17. Chapter 17: Flowers

Chapter Seventeen: Flowers

_Nothing, nothing gonna wake me now._

Remus ran. He didn't know where he was going. He only knew what he was running from.

_There is no hiding from the moon. _

Could he stop the hot raging animal fighting for dominance inside his mind? Could he escape the tide—the gravitation pull—carrying him to Greyback's rally? He pushed against the magic in his body, urging him to turn around, urging him to go back. Was it a spell? An enchantment?

Was this how all of Greyback's wolves felt, their first full moon? Straining against the leash of his magic, resisting the wolf rising inside them? When Remus looked into their hollow, dead eyes, he felt so _different_ from them.

But was he? Or had all those wolves been just as defiant, just as angry, just as brimming with life when they'd first been transformed?

The Underworld felt claustrophobic, the tunnels closing in. Remus pushed through darkness, wishing he could escape, wishing he could go back to the life he had before.

The Fated Ones' words grated at him, bubbled in his memory, sticky like rotting fruit. How did they know so much about him? How did they know exactly what would break him? Did they hate him especially, or did they treat everyone like this?

What magic gave them such power over every wolf in the Underworld?

They purred horrible lies in his ears like poison. Or was it truth?

Remus didn't know anymore. He just had to get away. From Greyback's regime—from the tunnels—from the mass of bodies. He needed space. Time. The balm of silence without the Fated Ones nearby.

But already he could feel something changing in him.

The wolf inside him waking up.

It was both him—and not him. This wild, untamable _thing_ skittering through his veins. And though he was far from the glow of moonlight, though he was deep underground, he could still sense the moon rising. The darkening sky revealing just enough glow—just enough to change everything.

To change him.

Power roared through him. Strength like he'd never known. At the same time, his muscles contracted, bones napped. Stretched.

His body was breaking.

Remus screamed. All sense of dignity lost. He was shaking, his skull morphing—impossibly—his eyesight sharpening. Long, deadly claws pushed through the skin on his knuckles.

It was agony.

And Remus couldn't help it.

He was afraid.

He had thought being a wolf would make him strong. That it would make him fearless and brave.

But he didn't feel brave now—with his bones bending past what he could bear. He didn't feel fearless or strong or clever.

His body stretched, shook, grew. Thick fur sprouted from his skin.

He was dying—he must have been. This had all been an ruse of Greyback's. To kill him, to shatter his life in the most devastating way possible. Remus fell to his knees, panting. How could he not be dying? The pain tore through him. There was no way he could survive.

A brutal snarling sound. A growl, low and deadly. Fear hammered at Remus's heart. Until he realized it was _him_ making the noise. Him roaring, him howling his strength to the moon.

Then—the transformation stopped.

Power coursing through him, he pushed himself up.

A werewolf stood in that tunnel. Huge. Monstrous. A glint of bloodlust sparked in its eyes.

He wasn't prey anymore. He was the predator.

Where was Remus, that boy who'd been so scared, so lonely?

Where was the man who had sacrificed everything he ever wanted for a little safety?

He must have been in there somewhere. But looking at this beast—with teeth sharp enough to kill—it was hard to see him.

Remus had wrestled his wolf, tried to keep his mind, his humanity, as long as he could. But the wolf had won. Maybe Remus was still in there somewhere. But until the sun rose—he was as good as dead.

The wolf stretched tall—its head scraped the ceiling. A hunger hollowed its face, sharpened its eyes. It stared up at the moon it couldn't see and howled—piercing—a shriek in the night.

And the pack answered him. From far down the tunnels, they still heard the call of their brother. They echoed his cry.

Remus had found his family at last.

With that, he ran off into the night. Wild. Free. Maybe not quite happy—but not unhappy either.

Remus let the wildness overtake his mind. He leaned into the hum that erased all his pain, all his sorrow, all the betrayal he'd suffered. And the loss. Remus was only animal now.

And wolves didn't grieve.

So he took himself, howling, into the night.

* * *

Remus woke—slowly, like being pulled from a dream. It was dark out still—no, he was in a tunnel. Far from the light, far from the world he once knew.

The ceiling above was unfamiliar, low and dark. Grey water dripped down the walls. A rotten, musty smell pressed against his nose. This wasn't the tunnel he transformed in. This wasn't anywhere he remembered. Where was he?

Remus pulled himself up. His head pounded. His mouth was dry as cotton. It was freezing down here.

He was in human form.

And then he remembered—it all came rushing back. Harsh and true against his dull haze.

He had transformed. The monster had erupted from inside of him. A snarling, hungry beast. His true self.

Remus sank against the wall, his head in his hands. The werewolf had wrestled him into submission. No, that wasn't quite it. He _was_ the werewolf. And he had defeated himself, beaten down every ounce of kindness and gentleness in his heart. He had gone wild, running free into the night, into the human world above.

A shard of icy horror rose in him. What had happened? What had he done under the intoxicating influence of the moon?

He remembered the pain—the tearing of his limbs, fire in his bones. The certainty he was going to die. The struggle to keep his mind—but the wolf had won.

And then it was nothing but darkness.

Only snatches of memory came back to him. Wild. Animal. The crystal rush of fresh air. Puddles splashing around his paws. The delicious crunch of bones breaking—blood exploding into his mouth.

No.

_No_.

Had he bitten anyone? Remus stared at his hands. His mouth was full of the tinny taste of blood. Maybe it had just been an animal—a poor pigeon or fox who crossed his path. His stomach felt heavy and full—like he'd eaten more than he had in weeks. But wolves didn't eat humans…did they?

He had to believe it was it was just an unlucky animal.

He was a predator now, after all. And wasn't this what he had wanted? He had come to Greyback willingly because he wanted to be strong.

Remus pushed himself to his feet. He was exhausted, but he had to start moving. Where, he didn't know. Back to Greyback. Back to the Underworld. Back to where he belonged.

His whole body ached. It felt like the worst hangover of his life. Worse even than the one he'd had after that wedding… James and Lily's wedding…

The memory jolted him.

Remus stopped in his tracks, staring, unseeing, trying to grasp onto that tiny thread of memory.

James and Lily. Glasses of champagne. Shots of fire whiskey. The hot breath of someone he loved on his neck…

How was he forgetting? This precious life that had been his—for one golden moment. He could hardly remember a thing about it now.

Was this Greyback's terrible power? Was this the bargain Remus had made—unknowingly—for strength and protection?

His memories in return. His life in return. His humanity in return.

He wasn't human anymore, he reminded himself. The bloody taste in his mouth was testament to that.

Remus started walking again. This had been a mistake. It shone in terrible clarity—red as poppies against a lily white sky.

This had been a terrible mistake. Greyback promised safety and freedom and family. But at what cost? Remus had known that he was giving up his life—but he hadn't known he was giving up his soul. His memories.

_Sirius…_

The name came to him in a flash—sharp as a dagger. Remus froze again, his heart hammering.

He had left Sirius.

How could he have done that? Remus tried to remember their life together, but it only came in flashes. Tangled sheets. Leather and cloves. Triple espressos. Quiet mornings.

They had built a paradise together. It wasn't a perfect life—nothing was. But it was a good life. With love and trust and easy affection. A good life, like one he'd never he deserved.

Well. He hadn't deserved it.

He had thrown it all away. Together he and Sirius had stood in the sun—bright and golden.

And then Remus left. Took himself to the shadows. Given it all up.

For this.

There were no words strong enough to describe the power of Remus's regret. He hated everything about himself. Everything about who had had become.

Remus sank to the ground. Cold. Bitter. Lonely. And, desperately, he wished Sirius could find him. It was impossible, he knew. But he couldn't help the thread of hope rising in him, like a child wishing on a star.

He didn't deserve rescuing. Remus knew that. But still, he prayed for someone to save him—for someone to find him in this grave he'd dug for himself. To find him in the darkness and guide him home.


	18. Chapter 18: Come Home with Me (Reprise)

Chapter Eighteen: Come Home with Me (Reprise)

_Whatever happened, I'm to blame._

Sirius stumbled into the tunnels, haggard, hungry—but alive and human, which was more than could be said for most people who sought their fortune in the Underworld.

It had been a long month, a hard month. Even as a dog, he was overly thin, starved and desperate. He'd staggered past Greyback's wards—and when he got to the gate that let no human pass unchallenged, he slipped by easily.

As a dog, heartbroken, hungry, he didn't register as a man at all.

And before he knew it, he was deep in the Underworld. It was a terrible place, overcrowded and dank. Lit only by a few harsh torches, the tunnels were claustrophobic, depressing, reeking of decay and misery. Wolves slept all around him, worn down from their big night wreaking havoc on the full moon.

Sirius stared at them, curled up, piled on top of each other like puppies. His stomach sank. They were children. Now, he could see how young they all were. How vulnerable. How broken and afraid, worn down and hollowed out by Greyback's magic.

Greyback preyed on the lonely. The vulnerable and uncared for. He searched for people who had nothing to live for. Nothing to lose.

Had Remus been like this?

Had he been so lonely, so miserable, without Sirius ever realizing?

The thought lit a fire in him. He took off through the tunnels, galloping through the labyrinth, past hundreds of wolves. He looked everywhere, desperate, despairing until—

There—a flicker of sandy hair, a gleam of those endless eyes, far off in the distance.

"Remus!" Sirius transformed and stumbled forward, his heart hammering, hope flowering in his chest.

Remus—on the far side of the tunnel, just a glimmer on the darkness—paused.

Turned.

His face was ragged, his eyes dull and hopeless. But when he saw Sirius, he froze, blinking like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Remus!" Sirius yelled again. And even here, in the darkest tunnels, in the depths of hell itself, Sirius couldn't help but feel joy spread through him at the sight of his beloved. He ran, jumping over the sleeping wolves, desperate to reach out, to be near Remus again.

And once Sirius got close enough to be solid, once Remus could recognize him, not as some phantom memory or mirage conjured by the Fated Ones to be cruel, Remus's face split into wild, childlike joy.

"Sirius?" he asked, hardly daring to believe. "Sirius!"

They collided in a tangle of limbs, thumping hearts, lips pressed against skin. Stumbling backward, hot and flush with delight, they slammed into the tunnel wall.

"Sirius," Remus said when he came up for air. "What are you doing here? You're not…" He couldn't say it out loud. The thought of Sirius getting bitten was too awful to name—to awful to even think.

"No," Sirius said. And then he laughed—bark-like, joyous—and Remus felt his delight crackling off him. "No," Sirius said again. "I came to take you home."

Remus couldn't help it. He laughed too—Sirius's joy was infectious, hysterical. He pulled Sirius to him and kissed him hard, like he would never get enough, like he would never see him again.

Sirius melted into the kiss—but all the while was hyper aware of how weak Remus was. How thin his arms were, how gaunt his cheeks. He touched him like he could break, like he was made of spun glass.

Remus noticed. Of course he noticed. These boys had a soul deep bond—they could not easily hide from each other. He pulled away, put a tender hand on Sirius's chest—felt the sharp bones, the protruding ribs. "How did you get here?"

"I walked," Sirius said. And he tried to pull Remus back into a kiss, but Remus pulled away again.

"But how?" he asked. "Only wolves know the way."

"I had help," Sirius said—and I swear, he glanced up to where I was hiding and gave me a roguish wink.

"But the full moon…" A flicker of horror crossed Remus's eyes. "Sirius, how did you not get bitten? There were hundreds of wolves out last night."

And despite the fact that he was beaten down and starving, despite the fact that he'd lived off rats and bitter, desperate hope for the last month, Sirius affected some of his old charm. He ruffled his hand through his hair, gave Remus a crooked grin. "Ah, I was alright. I hid."

"That was really dangerous," Remus said, stricken. "You could have been bitten."

"I was fine."

"But you could have—"

"Remus. I am fine."

Remus fell silent, his deep eyes studying his beloved. "The Fated Ones," he finally said, fighting and failing to keep his voice steady. "They cornered me. Hurt me."

"I didn't protect you." Sirius felt the dart of shame in him grow, spreading poisonous regret through his whole body. "I should have been with you—"

"No," Remus tried to interrupted, but Sirius barreled on.

"I failed you." Sirius took a step back, brushed a gentle hand across the back of Remus's neck. "I never should have left you alone. I promised I would protect you and then I—" Sirius broke off. He had run all this way, trying to escape the regret that choked him. He'd thought that finding Remus again would make it easier, soften the edge of his despair. But it only painted in stark relief just how much he had failed him. Remorse took hold of his heart and wouldn't let it go. "I made so many mistakes," Sirius said. "If I could go back, I would. I should never have left you alone."

Remus gave him a sad smile. "I should have been more careful. The wolves never should have gotten me."

Regret ran like a river between the two of them, unforgeable. They could forgive each other—they wanted to forgive each other—but first they would need to understand the depth of the other's pain.

First, they would need to be honest about how much they were hurt.

For now, they had their love, shining like a moonstone in the torchlight. And it would be enough. Time could heal all wounds—and love could be their balm in the meantime.

Sirius gently took Remus's hand, their fingers intertwined. And each felt a pang of sadness at the calluses on the other's palms, at the pain and fear and trials the other had faced all alone.

"There is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you," Sirius said, fighting to keep his voice steady. This wasn't the boy of roguish smiles and flirty winks. This was the Sirius no one else saw. Tender. Fragile. With a heart beating fiercely, bleeding freely on his sleeve. "You're the first thing in my life that has ever made sense. I'll be devoted to you until the day I die." He flicked his eyes up to where I hid. Smiled sadly. "Maybe even after that. I promise. I will never turn my back on you."

"Sirius…" Remus ran a hand over his lover's face, gently cupped his chin. He wanted to touch every inch of him. His eyelashes. His tattoos. The baby hairs pressed against his forehead. Remus knew that he'd never get enough.

Sirius was the brightest star in his life.

But Remus also knew what Sirius didn't—that their story could only end in tragedy. That there was nothing they could do to unwind the past. That they were stuck with the decisions they had made—in their fear and their anger. And they could never go back.

"I never thought I would see your face again," Remus said. "I was losing myself—my memories. There is something in there air here. It… makes you forget. Some kind of magic. I didn't know my name. I didn't know where I came from. But the one thing I could never lose is you. Even at the worst of it. Even when I didn't know myself, I knew you. I knew I love you. And that was enough."

Sirius kissed him. And this time, it was the slow, heartbroken kiss of those doomed to tragedy. They stood with their bodies pressed together, their heads on each other's shoulders. And for a moment, the tunnels melted away, and it was just the two of them—safe in their own world. A world of cozy coffee shops and walks along the south banks and the burn of firewhiskey.

"I'm getting us out of here," Sirius said, finally. "We'll go back—the way I came. We can go now."

"Sirius…"

Sirius had started to pull Remus away, back down the tunnel. His eyes shone with hope, with the promise he'd not yet broken.

"Sirius, I can't," Remus said, his heart shaking, the joy that had kindled in him since seeing his lover extinguished and cold.

"Of course you can," Sirius said. He didn't understand. He was too hopeful. Too pure. "We can go right now. It's daylight. It's safe."

"No—" But how could Remus explain it? The weight of what he had done, who had become, stood between them. "You don't understand."

And before Remus could confess, they were interrupted.

Fenrir Greyback appeared in the mouth of the tunnel, huge, menacing, powerful. "Well, well, well," he said, his voice a low vibration in their chests, his teeth sharp and terrible. "Look who's found his way to my kingdom."


	19. Chapter 19: Papers

Chapter Nineteen: Papers

_Don't know who the hell you are, but I can tell you don't belong._

Greyback pushed himself off the wall, stalking toward them with a triumphant gleam in his eye. "I never thought I would get you too, Sirius Black," he said, his voice low. "Your brother and your boyfriend, yes… but you." Greyback stopped his pacing—close, too close—so that he towered over them. "You have always been different."

Instinctively, Sirius pushed Remus behind him, trying to shield him—as if the damage hadn't already been done—as if Remus hadn't already been hurt.

Greyback noticed—and he laughed, terribly, coldly, sending shivers up both boys' spines.

"This is wolf territory, son," the king said. "There are good wolves down here—brave wolves. I won't have you polluting their minds with—"

But before he could finish, a voice down the hall interrupted him. "Father!"

And all three of them turned to Ylva stood at the end of the tunnel, her eyes ablaze with fear and rage.

"Leave them alone," she said, pushing herself in front of Sirius. "He isn't one of yours."

Sirius stared at Ylva. She looked different from when he'd last seen her. When he'd known her aboveground, she was robust with life, always cracking jokes, always coming up with a new way to get herself into trouble. Now, she had tangled hair, bleary eyes, cheeks sunken from grief. She looked wild, feral.

"Let him go," Ylva growled.

"I'm not leaving," Sirius said before Greyback could respond. "Not without Remus."

A tension strung taut in the air. Sirius guarded Remus. Ylva guarded Sirius. And Greyback towered over all three of them, ominous, powerful.

And deep from the shadows crept the Fated Ones, their eyes alight with bloodlust, the chaos drawing them in like moths to flame. The wolfpack moved behind them, silent, controlled by the king and his minions.

A low growl escaped from Greyback. He stalked forward and brushed Ylva out of the way as easily as if she were a doll. "Who do you think you are?" he asked Sirius. And in a flash, he grabbed him—claw tangling in the front of his robes—drawing him close. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

Sirius hung, toes skimming the ground. His face was only inches from Greyback's—and at once he could smell the reek of adrenaline and sweat, feel the power that buzzed off him like electricity.

Sirius was brave. He was reckless and determined and had never once backed down from a fight. Greyback's form of power would terrify most people. It did Remus. And the hundreds of kids who he had turned before that. It had scared me.

But Sirius didn't know enough to be afraid.

He lived a life of daring courage. Of hope and an unshakeable belief that good would defeat evil. Sirius was not so easily beaten.

He stared the king dead in the eyes—and, defiant, spit directly into his face.

Greyback roared and with a wild swing, threw Sirius against the tunnel wall.

Air rushed out of Sirius's lungs. He slid to the ground, stars in his vision. Distantly, he heard Ylva yelling, running to her father, fists out. And Remus rushed to him, cradling his head in his hand, pressing their bodies together.

"Don't hurt them," Ylva said, taking a wild swing at him.

But Greyback dodged out of the way easily. Grabbed his daughter's fist like it was nothing, and held her immobile. His hot rage took him to a place beyond reach. The buzz of the hunt settled on him, and he pushed Ylva aside to prowl toward the two boys.

"No," Remus said. He scrambled back to his feet, guarding Sirius, protecting him with his own body—the only thing he had. And though his voice was shaking, though his fear made his limbs weak, he stood up to the king, a courage born from love giving him strength. He stared down the man who had haunted him. The man who had taken everything he had. "I won't let you hurt him."

"You don't get to decide anything, cub," Greyback said. "Sirius Black came into my territory—"

"I'll leave," Sirius said quickly. "I'll go right now. Just let me take Remus."

Maybe it was seeing Sirius helpless. Maybe it was his rage settling down into its usual simmering fire, maybe it was the joy he felt at finally having an adversary who didn't immediately back down—but something made Greyback crack. He laughed, howled terribly, all aggression suddenly wiped from his body. The king, after all, did not need to intimidate to prove his power. "You think this was up to me, Black?" And the hard edge in his voice was worse than any brute rage Sirius had ever heard. "You think I dragged your boyfriend down here kicking and screaming?"

"Yes," Sirius said—defiant, proud.

"Sirius," Remus began, but Greyback cut him off.

"Understand this, Black," Greyback said. "Remus Lupin came to me of his own free will."

"No—"

"I never turn anyone without their consent." Greyback smiled, all fangs and steely rage. "These wolves are my family. I let them choose. When I came to him, I gave your precious Remus a decision to make."

"It isn't true." Sirius spun to Remus, searching his face for the truth, for the confirmation of what Sirius had to believe—_needed_ to believe—his love would never leave him. He would never come here willingly.

Greyback was only inches from Sirius now, his breath hot on his face. He smiled terribly as he spoke, relishing every moment. "I gave Remus Lupin a decision to make, Sirius Black. And guess what. He chose me."

Remus couldn't meet Sirius's eyes. Shame tugged at him like gravity—and at once he knew the deep, unshakeable truth that he had always suspected, always feared.

He was a bad person. A rotten person. A boy so broken from tragedy and loss that he was impossible to love.

He didn't deserve Sirius.

He deserved _this_—a life as a wolf, broken and alone. A life where he was powerless.

Remus forced himself to meet Sirius's gaze and his grief redoubled. He hated himself then, for his cowardice, for his selfishness. Finally, he said the words he knew would break his beloved's heart. The words he knew he had to own up to. "It's true."

Grief shot through Sirius—hot and scalding. It was too terrible to believe—too terrible to wrap his mind around. How could Remus have left him willingly? How could he, Sirius, have neglected him so much that Remus thought this was his only option?

"As for you—" Greyback grabbed Sirius again and this time, he didn't even fight. Regret and betrayal boiled inside him, poisonous, terrible.

Greyback slammed Sirius against the wall, pinned him with the strength of ten men. "I do not let outsiders into the Underworld." Greyback bared his teeth. His eyes shone—and there was no mercy there, nothing but hungry, bottomless rage. "I'll show you what happens to humans down here."

He threw Sirius to the ground. And Sirius didn't even get up to fight back. All his fire had been extinguished, all his will long gone.

Greyback looked into the tunnels—into the darkness where, unbeknownst to Sirius, lurked hundreds and hundreds of hungry wolves.

"Get him."

Then, Greyback grabbed Remus and Ylva each by the scrub of their necks and dragged them away.

'No," Sirius tried to call out, watching Remus disappear into the tunnels. But he had no power, no strength. "Wait for me—"

And before he could finish, he was grabbed by a strong pair of hands that wrenched him to his feet. A wolf. He could do this. He'd fought wolves before. Sirius turned, trying to muster the fight—only to see it was not one wolf but scores. A whole crowd of them, their faces sunken with hunger, their eyes oddly blank.

And despite his heartbreak, Sirius scraped a flicker of power. The will for survival, the briefest glimmer of self protection, saved him. He transformed into the great black dog—only seconds before the entire pack fell on him.

Sirius barked. Lept into the fray. Tore at throats and scrabbled with his claws.

The wolves, though, were relentless. Sirius was desperate, but he didn't fight to kill. These people were kids—just like him, just like Remus.

One of them grabbed the great dog by the tail—dragged him back with inhuman strength.

Sirius yelped, but the wolf showed no mercy. She slammed her fist into Sirius's head—and the second it took him to recover was enough to lose him the fight.

The wolves were on him. Hundreds of hands—punching, scratching, ripping out fur in great patches. Sirius yelped—fought—desperately—to escape.

But it was no use.

The wolves were relentless. All their humanity gone.

He was going to die, he thought wildly. They weren't going to stop until they killed him.

And just as he thought it… the wolves relented.

They fell off all at once—walking away silently, eerily, as if following the same, silent command. As if enchanted, Sirius thought dimly.

The wolves retreated to the shadows and Sirius just laid there. He transformed back into his human form, pain wracking through him as he did. Bones crunched. Sharp cuts stung under his eye. A deep red bruise was forming on his ribs.

But worse—much worse—than the physical pain was his depsair. The regret. The bitter knowledge that this was his fault—all his fault.

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. Tears burned against his cheeks—and for a desperate, broken moment, Sirius was the heartbroken boy he'd always been. No roguish smile. No bravado. He was the boy I knew in childhood—abandoned, abandoner.

"What's the matter, Sirius Black?"

Sirius pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. The Fated Ones. He would recognize those voices anywhere. He was already hurt, already broken. He didn't have any fight left in him if they decided to attack.

And did he even want to defend himself? He deserved this pain after all. He'd taken Remus for granted. He'd focused so much on his own life, on his own work, that he wasn't there when Remus most needed him. He'd let all this happen.

"You know he'll never forgive you," said the Broad One. She crowded with her sisters, hovering over Sirius. Threatening. But not attacking.

"You abandoned him," said the Tall One. "Just like you abandoned your brother before him."

"No," Sirius croaked.

The Small One knelt down and grabbed Sirius's chin—dragged his gaze to hers. Relentless. Furious. "Why fight, Sirius Black?" she asked and the mock concern on her face was more terrible than anything. "You'll never get him back."

Sirius wanted to fight. Wanted to come at them with his bleeding heart, his desperate love—but his strength was gone. The Fated Ones had such terrible power. They could peer into your soul and see the worst of you. All your fears—all your doubts. They could find every weakness and whisper it back into your ear.

"This is Greyback's world," the Small One said. "You can never defeat him. You're so weak."

And he _was_ weak. Sirius could see that now. He'd always thought he survived by strength alone, but now he could see the tightrope he'd always walked. He survived by serendipity, by privilege, by sheer good luck. He had always been just inches from falling.

"There's no use fighting," said the Tall One.

"Nothing changes," said the Broad One.

The Small One pushed Sirius away. Not hard, but Sirius fell back anyway. His strength was lost, his fight was gone.

"And nothing ever will."


	20. Chapter 20: If It's True

Chapter Twenty: If It's True

_But who are they to say what the truth is anyway?_

Sirius laid on the tunnel floor for a long time. His whole body pounded with pain. His heart was wrung out—empty. He didn't want to believe the Fated Ones. He didn't want to believe that nothing could change. That he had made his bed and now had to lie in it. That the past could never be forgiven. And Remus…

No.

Sirius couldn't accept it. He could accept the mistakes he had made. His foolhardiness, his arrogance. He could accept that he wasn't the man he'd always thought he was.

But he couldn't accept that Remus was lost to him.

There had to be a way to get him back. Their love had to be stronger than Greyback's rage.

"Regulus?"

I didn't appear at once. If I'm honest, I felt weary down there. Back where I'd given up everything—where I'd submitted myself to the wolves, and where I had drawn my last, lonely breath.

"Regulus," Sirius said again—and this time the heartbreak in his voice was enough to compel me.

"Yes?" I materialized near the ceiling, my face grim.

"It is true?" Sirius asked. He looked like a child, his eyes wide, reflecting the silver of my glow, his face stricken. "Is it true that nothing changes? Is it true that he's never coming back?"

I didn't answer him. The truth was that I didn't know. I didn't understand the depths of Greyback's enchantments—I didn't know how the Underworld really worked with its laws and brutalities.

Remus had chosen to come here of his own free will. He had signed his life away. Sirius was a dreamer, a fighter. He'd spent half his life working to create a better world, believing he could change things, believing he had the power to make a difference.

But if he lost Remus… if he had to give up the thing he loved most—what difference could he possibly make?

Sirius stood up slowly, painfully, watching the world crumble before his eyes. "If it's true…" He ran a hand across his eyes, pressing back the grief that pressed against them. "We fight and fight for a better world—just to be betrayed and beaten down." Sirius turned to me, his desperate eyes endless. "Regulus, this can't be the way the story ends. This can't be it."

And then Sirius turned to go—because he thought no one could hear—that no one was listening except for me. And what was I except for a thread of a memory?

But everybody knows that walls have ears.

And the werewolves heard him. The enchanted, forgotten pack.

The Underworld had them under a spell and they wasted their lives away, waiting for the full moon like junkies, waiting to be free. They waited in Greyback's world, starved and empty—betrayed by Greyback's broken promises. They had lost themselves. They had forgotten who they were.

But Sirius's words began to reawaken them.

One by one, they woke like sleepwalkers—the haze of Greyback's lies falling from their eyes—a veil shifting to reveal the world as it was.

They turned to one another, seeing each other for the first time. They touched their faces, felt their sunken cheeks, hollow eyes.

All the while Sirius's words echoed in their minds like a prayer, like a song.

_Is it true?_

The world they had known was numb—empty of everything except the moon. They fought and fucked and never felt a thing. Greyback promised all of them a family—but all they got was a desperate expanse of nothingness. Greyback gave them power, yes. He gave them safety. And in return, he took more than they knew. He took their open hearts. He took their memories and their love. These wolves had lost everything—and in the magic of the Underworld, they hadn't even known how empty they were.

Sirius Black woke them up. With his grief. With his love. With his desperate, shattered belief in a better world.

What if they didn't have to live this way? What if they were free? Not Greyback's idea of freedom—running wild, a life without consequences—but true freedom. Where they could feel pain and heartbreak and grief and loss. Where they would have something to live for, something to die for.

The wolves heard Sirius's heartbreak and broken dreams—and they woke up.

Sirius had turned to go. He was so lost in his own grief, he hardly noticed, hardly saw the people around him—not the wolves, but _people_. People who'd been tricked. Who'd been hurt. Who'd been fed lies and magic to keep them docile. Finally, they were waking up. Finally, they were rediscovering their humanity.

Sirius didn't notice at first.

But I did.

And the sight overwhelmed me.

It would have broken my heart, if I'd had a heart. It would have moved me to tears, if I were human.

But I wasn't. I didn't have a heart or eyes that could cry. I was only a feeble imprint. And all I had was Sirius—and my dream of a better world.

"Sirius," I said.

He turned, casting his eyes to me—and then he saw them. The wolves had emerged from the tunnels, curious and hungry like children. They blinked up at him, as though seeing him for the first time. As though seeing everything for the first time.

"Talk to them, Sirius," I urged him.

"I don't know—"

"Please," I said. "You can help them."

And Sirius turned to the wolves. To the people who weren't Remus, but needed to be rescued too. Who had lost just as much. Who also had lovers and family and friends who missed them, who would have gone to the ends of the earth to save them, if only they could. Sirius, after all, wasn't the first person to lose someone to Greyback's reign.

So—Sirius took his grief—took all the pain and hope he held for Remus—and gave it to the wolves instead.

"Why do things have to be this way?" he asked. "Why does Greyback have to keep you down here? Why does he keep turning more people into wolves when he can hardly feed or take care of the followers he's already got?"

_Why, why why_—the question echoed down the tunnels, creeping through the Underworld like a spider on a web.

"Why do you have to live like this?" Sirius pressed on. "Greyback did this to you. The Fated Ones did this to you. But why? What are they getting out of it?"

_Why_? The question no one had dared ask—the question Greyback had fought so hard to keep them from asking.

"He promised you freedom," Sirius said, "and he gave you a death sentence. He took your whole life—and he keeps on taking. Why? Who is winning here?"

_Why_? _Who_? The questioned echoed through the wolves like a delicious shiver.

"What kind of world do you want to live in?" Sirius asked. "What kind of world do you deserve?"

The wolves turned to each other, their eyes wide with possibility. What _did_ they want? It had been so long since they'd been able to ask—since they'd been able to think for themselves. How could they know? The possibilities before them were a vast expanse.

"How many of us are there?" Sirius asked. "Hundreds and hundreds. And each and every one of you has a dream—has a life and a family you deserve to get back to. How many of _them_ are they?"

_How many_… _a life to get back to_…

For the first time in years, in decades, the wolves let themselves dream—of their families, of their hopes. Dream as individuals—not cogs of a great machine.

"We're more powerful than them," Sirius said, alive with triumph, alight with hope. "If we work together—if we take care of each other—we can change things for good."

I watched my brother work, and a hope I hadn't known in years rose in me. He'd been taught for years he'd have to take Greyback on alone—he'd believed this was only his fight. He'd forgotten—we'd all forgotten—the people who needed his help the most. The nameless, faceless, victims. Those who had never been given a voice.

They were people—with hopes and fears—and a desperate desire to never fall under Greyback's spell again. And with Sirius's help, they could free themselves.


	21. Chapter 21: How Long?

Chapter Twenty-One: How Long?

_All of the sorrow won't fit in his chest. It just burns like a fire in the pit of his chest._

Ylva fought the whole way down the tunnel. With gnashing teeth and furious fists, she struggled against her father as he dragged her—all the way back to the entrance of their flat.

Remus had given up fighting. Whether it was grief or fear, he hung like a deadweight, letting himself be dragged. And when they finally reached Greyback's flat, the king shoved him to the side. "Keep him away from that human," Greyback told the Fated Ones—who had emerged from the shadows.

As if they were phantoms. As if they were shadows themselves.

And as they pulled Remus away, Ylva wrestled out of Greyback's grip and slipped inside, keeping a safe distance from him as he followed her into the apartment. "What are you so afraid of?" she growled.

"Me, afraid?" Greyback slammed the door to their flat, dead bolted it shut behind them. "You're delirious. I have nothing to be afraid of. I'm the king."

But Ylva could see that wasn't true. She spent a lot of time around humans—she knew what fear looked like. Greyback—who was always alone, or always with his pack, enchanted, empty—wouldn't have recognized it. He spent so long running from his feelings, stuffing them down with conquest and blood, he hardly felt at all. Grief pitter-pattered against him distantly, like rain on a faraway shore.

"They're just boys," Ylva said. "They're in love."

Greyback scoffed. "So what?"

"Why not help them?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about this." Greyback said coldly. "Have another drink. You've stolen enough of my liquor."

"No," Ylva said and her voice was hard as stone, solid as warm earth. "I've had enough."

Greyback stared at his daughter. She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, her knuckles white against the marble, ready to fight. His fierce and fearless girl. The apple of his eye who he'd do anything to protect. She had grown haggard in recent years—rough and bloodshot, with a misery that she drowned in booze. She had become someone he didn't recognize, almost as blank and lifeless as his enchanted pack.

But now, as she stared him down, he saw her fire. That rage and lust for life the she always carried like a torch. He could see a spark of his child again. And something deeply wounded inside of him started to crack open.

Ylva tried again. "You could help them. They were made for each other—surely you can see that."

Greyback stood on a dangerous precipice. He'd spent years—decades—fighting his pain, covering it with anger and ambition. He wasn't ready to crack open—he wanted to hold onto his power and his pack for a while longer.

"Remus Lupin made his choice," he said. "You can't undo a werewolf bite."

"No," Ylva agreed. "But you could let him go."

Silence.

The air hung heavy between them, as they stared each other down. Each one proud. Each one desperately lonely.

"Let him go?" Greyback finally repeated, a scathing bite to his voice. "Go where? Back to the life he willingly gave up? Back to the boyfriend he happily abandoned?"

"You coerced him," Ylva said.

"He made the decision himself."

"He made a mistake then!" she yelled. Her cheeks shone with color, her dark eyes were laser focused and furious. Greyback hadn't seen her alive like this in years. "Does he deserve to suffer for that? Does he not get a chance to make amends?"

"I don't do second chances," Greyback said. "Becoming a wolf is for life. He agreed."

Ylva's voice dropped, deadly. "He agreed to become a wolf. Not to lose everything he knew. Not to be taken from the wolf and held in a cage for this rest of his life."

A terrible smirk crawled onto Greyback's face. He leaned back, crossing his arms, triumphant. "Who are we talking about here?" he asked, relentless. "Remus Lupin? Or you?"

He had expected her rage to shatter—for her to run to her stash of booze and give up the fight, but if anything, it only emboldened her further. Gave her deadly focus. "I didn't sign up for this either," Ylva said. "I never wanted to live like this. Just because I'm in the pack doesn't mean I don't deserve a life. I should be able to see the sky and go out in sunlight and walk along the river. I should be allowed to have friends, girlfriends—"

"If you want a warm body to fuck, you could just ask."

"That's not what I mean at all," Ylva said, her voice ice cold. "Only you would think that"

"Fine—"

"Only someone so cut off and so frozen and so _scared_ wouldn't be able to see the value of life. Of a _real_ life. A life with pain and laughter and heartbreak and love," Ylva said. "That's what Sirius and Remus had. That's what they could have again."

"Could have again if what?"

"If you let them go."

Silence hung between them, and Ylva could see something turning in Greyback's eyes. And even with his rage simmering, she knew she had to take her chance. She rushed toward him, unafraid of his terrible fists, of his endless rage, and gently, took his hand into her own. "Dad, please," she said. "Let them go home."

Greyback stared at Ylva's hand around his.

He remembered when she was small, when she'd wrap her whole fist around his pinky. Even then, her eyes were bright and curious. Even then, she'd lived large and loud—just like a wolf should. He had been so proud of her. "Why would I?" he asked quietly. "Why should I let them go?"

Ylva's answer was simple.

"Mercy."

Greyback watched her, focusing hard on the dark gleam of her eye, the proud jut of her jaw. Something heavy and unspeakable was shifting in him—revealing a chasm underneath. Memories he'd tried to forget. Pain he'd tried to clamp down. Greyback didn't want them to come back up—he didn't want to encounter what he had so long hidden from. "They didn't show your brothers mercy," he finally said.

Ylva kept her voice steady. She knew the minefield she was walking into. She had to tread lightly. "That was a long time ago."

"Not to me," Greyback said, his voice hard, unreadable.

Ylva knew it was a risk—but she had to take her chance. She could suffer her father's wrath if it meant Sirius and Remus could have their happy ending. "But you can change things," she said. "What happened to my brothers was wrong. But you have the power to end the violence—you don't have to hurt people anymore."

Ylva waited, watching her father closely, hoping he would say something, hoping he would crack open. But the king didn't speak. He seemed overcome—overpowered.

After a long moment, Ylva spoke and her voice sounded broken, fragile, the voice of a little girl who had witnessed unspeakable tragedy. Who had lost her brothers and her mother in one bloody, terrible night. "Dad, they wouldn't have wanted you to be like this."

Greyback looked at his daughter and neither of them spoke.

* * *

Remus had been struggling with the Fated Ones. Like harpies, they stalked him, shoving, biting, whispering terrible secrets in his ear. Remus couldn't fight. His strength was gone. Almost getting Sirius back, only to lose him again felt like a knife in his ribs. He didn't know where the Fated Ones were leading him, but he knew he had no power to resist.

And then—all at once—they stopped.

They _froze_.

Remus stared at them. They were completely motionless—like statues. Not paused or waiting or still—but fully petrified—their eyes dull as rocks, their faces frozen in their brutal whispers.

What magic was this? Remus knew he should run, take his opportunity and escape, but he was too curious. He circled all around the three girls, waved a hand in front of their eyes. Nothing.

And then—in perfect unison, the Fated Ones spoke. "_Mercy_."

Remus stumbled back, ready to fight, ready to run. But they hadn't woken up. They were still just as lifeless as before. It was like they were possessed.

Then they spoke again, the unison eerie. "_That was a long time ago_."

"What was?" Remus asked, his voice shaking. But they didn't seem to be responding to him. Whatever they were seeing was happening on a distant shore.

"_Dad_," all three of them said. A long pause. "_They wouldn't have wanted you to be like this_."

Slowly—the pieces fell into place and Remus felt a cold understanding wash over him. He stared at the Fated Ones, unrecognizable, unmoving, speaking all to their father.

And Remus understood.

Without waiting longer, he ran to find Sirius and tell him what he had learned.


	22. Chapter 22: Chant (Reprise)

Chapter Twenty-Two: Chant (Reprise)

_If we're free, tell me when we can stand with our fellow man._

Ylva was sure her father was going to break down. That he'd change. He stood there, frozen—as though petrified, as though overwhelmed by grief. And yet, he seemed lighter somehow. Like the burden of a hundred ghosts had been lifted off him.

They almost reconciled—until—

"What's that sound?" Greyback snapped his head up, a wolf on the hunt.

Ylva didn't have to strain her ears to hear it too. It sounded like _voices_. Individual voices. Wolves of the pack—talking to each other. Talking as _people_, not jockeying for dominance, not in their enchanted, sleepwalking state. No longer asleep, No longer docile.

At last—the pack was awake.

"It's those boys," Greyback snarled, and Ylva was sure he was right.

Without another word, Greyback left. Their moment of near break through forgotten—the pain that had emerged in the cracks of his pieced-together heart, once again pushed down.

Greyback ran to quell the rebellion simmering under his feet—and once again, he left Ylva all alone.

* * *

Remus had never seen anything like it. The wolves—hundreds of them—all of them—were awake, their eyes bright with life. Curious, scared, angry. _Alive_. He pushed through the crowd, knowing without having to be told that this was Sirius's doing—bubbling with the delight of seeing Sirius change the world in just the way he'd always wanted to.

Remus searched for his beloved and all the while, the wolves whispered around him, waking up.

"Did he promise you a new life?"

"Did he promise you a family?"

"How long have you been down here?

"How long have I been asleep?"

"My brother came down here with me—where is he?"

It was incredible—overwhelming. Remus could have watched it all day—but his desperate need for Sirius pressed against his heart. "Sirius," he said to no one in particular. "Where is Sirius?"

And before he knew it, hands were pulling him gently through the tunnels. "I know where he is."

"He's at the center of everything."

"He's amazing."

"I know," Remus said, glowing with pride. He let himself be pulled along, meeting eyes with everyone he passed. It was so different from being dragged by the Fated Ones. It was so different from life in the Underworld before. Remus looked at the people around him and saw hope and love and wonder.

And, suddenly, Sirius was there. Remus saw him across the tunnel, at the center of everything, shaking hands, hugging people, waking the pack up one connection at a time.

"Sirius."

He turned—saw Remus—and his face lit up with a wild happiness. "Remus," he mouthed, too overwhelmed to speak.

Remus ran—and the crowd parted to let them through. He and Sirius barreled toward each other—all young, boundless love and hot passion—and fell into each others arms. They kissed passionately—desperately—hands tangled together, hearts beating in rhythm.

"You woke them up," Remus said. "You did it."

Sirius kissed his neck—and Remus wished he could lose himself in it, surrender to the heat—but he knew they still had work to do. Greyback wasn't defeated yet—his reign wasn't over yet.

"Listen… I figured something out," Remus said—and he told Sirius what he'd discovered about the Fated Ones, about Greyback—and the trauma that held the Underworld.

* * *

Greyback saw immediately what had happened. And he was furious. "Sirius Black!" he yelled—and his voice echoed like a roar down the tunnels.

And before he had to call for them, the Fated Ones were there—drawn to his rage and his bloodlust. "Fix this," the king told them—gesturing to the wolves around them—the wolves who were waking up, who were seeing their lives in stark reality for the first time.

Greyback had learned plenty about being a king during his reign. Strength relied on fear, and power relied on highly pliable subjects. He kept his people dull and empty—so that they couldn't escape from him. So that they wouldn't run directly into harm's way, like those three brave and stupid boys all those years ago.

His boys…

The Fated Ones faltered, freezing and flickering. Almost like memories. Almost like ghosts.

But before they vanished, Greyback summoned back his rage—pushed down his grief and replaced it with bitter spite and power.

"Fix this," he said again, before rushing off to quell the riot that Sirius Black had started.

* * *

The Fated Ones moved through the tunnels with impossible speed. They were not human—they were not material. As they passed each wolf, a haze of indifference fell back upon them. The enchantment spread through the tunnels like a virus—passing hand to hand, heart to heart.

And suddenly all the wolves that had been awake for the first time in years—all the _people—_were back under the spell of the Underworld.

They lost their names—their souls—the hope they had so briefly kindled. They become nothing more than puppets, ready to follow Greyback's order to the letter, ready to turn on the boys they had finally started to believe in.

* * *

Sirius noticed the change at once. He grabbed Remus's hand, afraid that he too would go under the spell, and pulled him close protectively. "Look at them," he said, and his shattered voice couldn't hide his fear. "What happened?"

"Greyback must have noticed," Remus said. "He must have redone the spell."

All around them, the pack had faltered, their eyes glazed over, their limbs heavy and limp. Some of them had sunk low against the tunnel walls, like their strings had been cut. "It's stronger than normal," Remus said. "It's almost like he's panicking."

Sirius stared into the eye of a girl who stood in front of him—vacant, lost. He knew she was in there somewhere—he had just been speaking to her, just been hearing the tiny snatches of her life that she still remembered. "Is there anything we can do?"

"I don't know." Remus waved his hands in front of the girls' face. She didn't even blink. "What worked before?"

Sirius shook his head. "I don't know."

They were surrounded by sleepwalkers. Could he tell them moments from their life to wake them up? But he didn't know enough about all of them—and what would happen when Greyback recast the spell yet again?

"Sirius." Remus squeezed his hand, brought him back to his sense. "Think. What did you do last time? I had just been dragged away. You had just been beaten up. You did _something_ to change them."

"I was heartbroken," Sirius said. "I thought I had lost you."

Around them, the pack sighed—as though falling deeper asleep.

"I thought it was over…"

Remus watched the wolves—their jaws falling slack, their knees slowly melting to the ground—they were getting _more_ enchanted, not less. "That can't be it—there must be something else." He brushed Sirius's jaw gently. "You didn't give up. I know that you didn't. That's not you."

But Sirius couldn't remember. At last, he was starting to fear, starting to doubt. What had he done that had broken Greyback's power? Fear pounded in Sirius's ears, drowning everything else out. He couldn't lose Remus again.

It was hard to watch, to see that reckless hope fading behind Sirius's eyes, to see him forget the immense power that he had.

I had to do something.

"He didn't give up," I said, and I materialized from where I had been hiding—watching, listening, but not interfering, not stepping in.

A ghost's place is in memories—in lost opportunities and grief. It isn't a ghost's place to step in.

It isn't a ghost's place to change the world.

But I saw Sirius lost—Sirius confused, his usual glowing hope dark inside him—and I knew I could remind him of who he was. "Sirius, you didn't give up. You were heartbroken—and you were passionate. You couldn't believe that it was over. You weren't going to give up that easily."

Sirius's eyes flickered. "But if Greyback could put them under the spell again so fast…"

"Don't you see?" I said, almost exasperated. "It was your love—your devotion that woke them up. The spell makes them forget who they are. It makes them forget who they love. Their families and friends—everyone. But you… you awaken that hope again. You questioned everything, because you know you will never leave here without him. And that hope is exactly what they need."

"What do I do?" Sirius asked and he sounded so young, so desperate.

"Remind them who they are. What it means to be human. If you show them your love for each other, they'll remember," I said. "They'll remember their homes and all the people they care about. They'll remember what it means to have a real family."

Sirius turned to Remus—and saw that Remus was crying—tears flowing down his ruddy cheeks, his endless eyes swimming with hope and grief. Remus took Sirius's hands and entwined their fingers.

They stood together in silence for a long time, and it was Remus who spoke first. "Sirius…" His face was a mess of dirt and bruises and tears—but in that moment, there was no one more beautiful. "I feel like I've known you my whole life. More than my life. Our atoms are made of the same star. I never should have left you—and I never thought I could be saved. I thought it was impossible. But you showed me that I never should have worried. I should have known you would come for me. You're extraordinary. I am so lucky to love you."

Sirius blinked the tears that blurred his vision. He wanted to kiss Remus there—run away and keep him all to himself—but he knew that they still had work to do. They had to defeat the king. They had to wake the dreamers.

"Remus…" His voice cracked, emotion welling like dewdrops. "You are the best thing in my life. Before I met you, I never knew a person could be so strong and so tough and so beautiful. I fell in love with you the second I saw you. I knew right away that I would go to the ends of the earth for you. There is nothing you could ever do to make me not love you. My heart belonged to you long before we met. And it always will. No matter what."

They stood in silence for a long moment, love ripe and heavy between them. Then, they kissed—tenderly, gently. Both were crying—and their tears mixed together—their fear and desperate, hungry love.

And then…slowly… person by person, the wolves woke up once more. The enchantment melted off them. The boys' love dissolved it and sharpened the world. The wolves watched them kiss—these two brave, heartbroken boys—and their love reawakened the souls that had been silenced. The wolves felt their love—all in a rush—and felt their own emotions too.

Grief. Joy. Happiness. Shock. Fear. Desperate, impossible hope—like a flickering candle in the night. They remembered who they had given up when they came to the Underworld. The friends and siblings. The lovers. The parents and children.

The pack mourned their losses, and the pain was medicine.

It reminded them who they were.

The boys' love spread through the tunnels, and soon, everyone was awake again. And ready to fight, to flee, to do anything they could to never fall asleep again.

Until—

"Sirius Black." Fenrir Greyback appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, and he looked terrible in his rage, large and powerful as always, but something in him had cracked open—a sharp edge of glass pressed into his soul, as he bit down the grief he'd tried to hide from for years. And it only made him all the more dangerous.

"This ends right now," Greyback snarled, stalking forward. "Sirius Black, you are not welcome here. The Underworld is no place for humans."

Sirius turned to the king—and he didn't back down. Though fear tugged at him, he clenched his fists and said, "I'm not leaving until you lift the enchantment for good and free these people. And I'm not leaving without Remus."

"You think you are in the position to make demands?" Greyback growled. "I'm the king. I am the ultimate authority. Your _love_ and _hope_ don't mean anything in the face of raw power. I have hundreds of subjects who obey my every command—I have a kingdom and magic and more power than you could ever dream of." Greyback towered over him, and asked, "What do you have, Sirius Black?"

Sirius looked forward, certain and unafraid. "I have Remus."

And the tunnels broke into cheers as the wolves howled for the boys, celebrating their love, their undying hope. Shock cut Greyback's face. He spun around and saw his subjects turning on him, saw the pack he'd built for years—his _family_—betraying him.

"ENOUGH!"

And his roar was enough to cut the pack off at once. He turned to Sirius, chest heaving, rage pounding through his veins. "I'll tell you what, Sirius Black," he said. "You want your little boyfriend? Let's fight for him." A manic glint shone in his eye. "If you win, you can take him. I will let you leave in peace. But if _I_ win—which I will—I will not show mercy. I will rip out your throat—and throw your wretched body to my pack. Do we have a deal?"

I wish I could have talked him out of it. I glided forward—tried to make him see sense—even Remus tugged on his arm, begging him not to fall for the obvious bait.

But Sirius Black was nothing if not reckless. He looked up at the king, dead in the eyes, and said. "Deal."


	23. Chapter 23: Epic III

**CW for this chapter: Violence, description of blood**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three: Epic III

_And what has become of the heart of that man, now that the man is king?_

"Sirius, you don't have to do this," Remus pleaded, but it was no use. Sirius was determined, unreachable.

"I want to," he said. And he gazed at Remus's endless eyes, his sorrow as deep as the ocean. "I've been training for this for years."

"But Sirius—"

"I need to try." The desperation that broke Sirius's voice was enough. It fractured his bravado, shining like a shadow underneath the mask of recklessness, revealing the bleeding, heartbroken boy underneath. "Remus, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try."

"But what about me?" Remus asked. "How am I supposed to live with myself? How could I possibly live without you?"

"Don't worry," Sirius said, slipping right back into his affected arrogance, even going so far as to give Remus a playful wink. "I won't die. I promise."

But Sirius had broken promises before. He was a good man, an honorable man. But that didn't mean he could keep every vow he made.

The Fated Ones were clearing a space to fight, shepherding the pack away. Or trying to at least. For the wolves refused to leave. They were awake, alive—and every one of them was terrified for Sirius. There was nothing the Fated Ones could do. They snarled and threatened, but the pack was—at last—strong enough to resist them. They protected each other. And the Fated Ones' terrible powers—their ability to divide, their ability to make a person feel isolated in their shame—became suddenly worthless.

As Sirius prepared to fight, a hundred hands reached out to him. The wolves blessed him like he was something holy, whispering luck into his ear. They didn't believe in the Fated Ones' lies. They didn't believe in the shadows of the Underworld.

They only believed in Sirius.

I, on the other hand, was terrified. Didn't Sirius know he was no match for the king? He was so small, powerful in his hope, but would that be enough? Greyback was twice his size, twice his strength. I desperately did not want Sirius to join me in death.

"Are you ready, Sirius Black?" boomed Greyback.

Sirius turned—and suddenly saw Ylva there, half hidden in shadow, her face ashen and pale. And in a rush, he wished he could take back all the anger he felt toward her—take back all the fear. She didn't ask to be Greyback's child. She didn't ask for the Underworld. Sirius understood now. He looked at the Fated Ones—in their cruelty and their rage—and he understood.

"Sirius," Remus said from behind him. Sirius turned to give him a shaking smile. "Please… be careful."

Sirius kissed him—trying to put everything he didn't have time to say into it. "Don't worry," he said. "I can change things."

"No wands," Greyback said, as Sirius stepped into the ring. "We fight like men."

Sirius had been expecting it, but it didn't make the news any more welcome. Greyback made a big show of passing his wand off to the Fated Ones. Sirius handed his to Remus. "Keep it," he said. "If I—"

"You won't," said Remus.

So Sirius faced the king. Brave and proud and impossibly hopeful, he stepped forward to fight for a better world.

"Are you prepared to die, Sirius Black?"

The Fated ones jeered, but Ylva stood silent—her dark eyes more alert than Sirius had ever seen them. Maybe she had woken up from a spell too.

"No one will be dying today."

And Sirius stepped forward, facing his fate.

For a moment, the two of them stood in a tense suspension, the air electric between them.

And then—Greyback pounced.

Sirius dodged at once. He was no novice—it was clear that agility and surprise would serve him better than brute strength. He could tire Greyback down while planning his best move.

He spun just in time to see the king lunging at him again.

Sirius barely missed his great fist this time—only by a hair's margin.

"What fun is this, Black?" Greyback leered as Sirius backed away. "Are you going to keep hiding forever? Come face your death like a man."

Sirius prowled to the edge of the circle, calculating his chances, deciding his next move.

Greyback lunged again—and this time Sirius transformed. The great black dog leapt up to Greyback's arm and fastened its jaws around it in a deadly bite.

Greyback roared—and flung Sirius across the tunnels. The force of the throw sent the dog skidding, but not before he ripped a chunk of flesh from the king's arm.

"You disgusting mutt—" Pain made Greyback feral, sharpened his rage.

Sirius didn't wait. He jumped onto the king again, biting down on his leg.

Greyback kicked out, instinctively, but Sirius's grip held tight. Blood gushed from Greyback's wounds, seeping through his robes, flowing hot onto Sirius's fur. The taste of iron rushed into Sirius's mouth.

"Let go of me," Greyback growled—and brought his other leg down, stomping as hard as he could.

Pain shot through Sirius.

Something cracked. His ribs by the sound of it. In a haze, Sirius lost his grip, giving Greyback the opening to shake him off.

"You want to play dirty?" Greyback asked—and he began to pace, limping with every other step. "You think you can win, just with your little magic trick?"

Sirius kept a good distance—not pouncing yet, waiting for the right moment to go on the offensive.

He was injured. The dog could not hide it as well as a human could—and I could sense the desperate, pounding pain in the whites of his wild eyes. All Sirius had to do was keep his head—play it smart. He had a chance—injured as he was—but he had to play his next move carefully.

Greyback lunged for the dog—and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Bloodlust glinted in the king's eyes. Sirius scrabbled against him, but Greyback's grip held true.

And—with a mighty blow—Greyback slammed the dog against the wall.

Sirius went limp as pain jolted through him, and he slid to the floor, unmoving.

"No—" Remus tried to run forward, but one of the Fated Ones caught him, dragged him back.

Greyback hovered over the dog, leering. "I look forward to killing you, Sirius Black."

Sirius blinked up at him, trying to clear the cotton haze of pain from his eyes. Trying to muster the strength to keep fighting.

"I'm going to kill you just like I killed your pathetic little brother."

And that was enough. Rage—vengeance—love turned to hate—pushed Sirius to his feet—and he once more tried to attack.

I wish I could have told Sirius to be careful—not to be goaded into a fight he could never win—but Sirius was too proud and too angry.

He went straight for Greyback's throat—all bared fangs and deadly claws. But it wasn't enough. Greyback threw him off easily—and didn't wait before pouncing again.

Now it was Greyback with the advantage, Greyback with teeth bared, Greyback ready to kill. Blood flowed freely against the ground, and it was impossible to tell whose it was. Sirius's fur was thick and matted. A terrible gash opened on his flank.

Sirius was losing.

He would die here.

The realization settled heavy in the air. The pack hardly breathed, clutching each other as they watched their last hope die. Remus sobbed openly, fighting against the grip of the Fated Ones who held him.

And I?

What could I do?

I watched helplessly, hopelessly. My brother was going to die—right before my eyes. He was going to die as I died—at the mercy of a terrible king, alone on the filthy tunnel floors.

But he wasn't alone.

The realization crackled through me like lightning.

He had Remus. He had the pack who believed in him. He had Ylva.

And me.

He had me.

And—empowered, unafraid—I rushed toward him. And just as Greyback rose to deliver the final blow, I materialized in his eyes, disorienting him, blocking his vision—giving Sirius just enough time to scramble away.

I didn't look, but I heard his claws clicking against the stone floor—and then silence. I didn't dare turn to see if he had retreated to safety. I stayed in front of Greyback's eyes, blocking his vision for as long as Sirius needed to get away.

But Sirius wouldn't run. I should have known better. He would never back down from a fight and he would never leave Remus behind—nor the pack, for now they were his just as Remus was his.

"You don't have to be like this Greyback," came Sirius's voice. And I turned to see he'd transformed back into his human form. He looked terrible. Bleeding freely from a gash on his side, his face bruised and grey. "You can be a better king."

"I am powerful," snarled Greyback, trying to claw me away—but we both knew that would not work. He'd already destroyed my body. There was nothing else he could do to hurt me. He had no power over memory. "What more could I need?"

"Your people could love you," Sirius said. "You could help them, lead them—you don't have to keep them asleep like this."

"You don't know the first thing about leading, boy."

"No," Sirius agreed. "But I know _you_, Fenrir Greyback." He stated to pace, keeping a good distance from the Fated Ones and the king. "I know all about your heart and your fears. I know how far you would go to protect the child you love."

"I'm not afraid," Greyback said. He was limping too as he paced, his wounds deep and bleeding. "I have nothing to be afraid of."

Sirius stopped moving then—and in the dimness of the tunnel, he looked so small, so powerless. I wanted to yell to him to fight—to flee. But Sirius was fighting this battle the best way he knew how. With his open heart and ferocious hope. "That's not true," he said simply. "You're afraid of losing her."

He didn't have to say who he meant. Everyone knew.

And at once, it was as if a spotlight lit Ylva in the darkness. All of our gazes found her, drawn as if by a magnet. Ylva, tough and proud—Ylva with eyes full of mischief and a heart full of shadows. Ylva, who was imprisoned by her father to keep safe, who was miserable, desperate for freedom and fresh air—desperate for the world she'd been kept away from.

Sirius kept on. "You lost everything that night—twenty years ago—your three sons left your protection and wandered right into a trap. They died brutally, painfully, with mouths full of blood. You couldn't let that happen to Ylva."

I didn't know if it was some kind of compulsion that drew Ylva out of the shadows—or if the pack had coaxed her, gently, lovingly, to her father's side. Her people loved her, after all. It was impossible not to.

"She was too young," Greyback said—and he couldn't hide the emotion that shook in his voice.

"She was," Sirius agreed. "And the boys were young too. Just kids They were rebelling like all teenagers do." Sirius paused, studying Greyback's dark eyes, his set jaw. "They shouldn't have died for it."

"It was a trap," Greyback said. "Their mother was working with the Aurors. She betrayed them."

"And they all died. All your boys. The woman you loved. They got wiped out in the blink of an eye."

Silence filled the tunnels. Nobody breathed. The king was cracking, his sorrow and anger pushing against his heart, turning the tide.

"Humans are to blame," he finally said. "All humans."

"You never let your boys go, did you?" Sirius asked. Then, he stole a glance at Remus, who was still held by the Fated Ones—but their grip was lighter—their bodies weaker—gossamer thin. "You held onto them—a thread of their memory. You turned your fear into projections of your nightmare. Your fear became your weapon—and it let you control your people—it gave you the strength to infect them with the same despair you felt, the same numbing rage that has coursed through your veins for decades."

"What are you talking about?" Greyback asked.

"The Fated Ones," Sirius said. "They're not subjects. They're not wolves. They're not even people." He limped up to Remus and pulled him out of their grasp—his hand went through them like fog. Suddenly, they had no power against him. "They're phantoms. Fears. Your three boys were murdered—and all you had was Ylva left She was heartbroken and lonely."

No one in the tunnel breathed. Greyback's eyes were wide, haunted.

Sirius spoke simply. "So you turned your fear into ghosts. Your grief into weapons. You took the memory of those three boys, and turned them into three sisters."

Greyback didn't speak—and neither did Ylva—the two of them stared at the Fated Ones as though seeing them for the first time.

"They're your hopes for a better world and your dread. They control your people by enchanting them with your own numbness. They are terrible." Sirius took a huge risk—a stupid risk. He stepped forward, placed a hand on the bleeding, brutal arm of the king.

Greyback looked down, surprised. And for a moment, I was afraid I saw murderous rage glinting in his eye—but the anger cracked up to reveal was what really underneath.

Grief.

"They're not real, Greyback," Sirius said. "They're just fear. They're your desperate attempts to bridge the distance between you and the child you love. They're the defense mechanisms you built up to keep your daughter safe."

"I can't lose her," Greyback managed.

"Greyback," Sirius said, and there wasn't anger in his voice—only painful, heartfelt compassion. "You already have."

Greyback stumbled away. And now I knew he wasn't going to strike. Sorrow rolled off him like thunder.

"There is still time," Sirius said. "It isn't over yet. You can still protect her. You just have to see her as she is. Love her as she is."

"Dad." Ylva's voice was small—and she sounded like the child who had lost her brothers all those years ago. The child who was afraid and lost—and needed her father's comfort, not his rage. "I only ran away because you never saw me. You created this Underworld to keep me safe—but I never wanted it."

"I need to protect you—"

"I know you do," Ylva said, her voice gentle. "But this isn't protection. This isn't a life." She rushed to him, and—tentatively, wrapped her hand around his. "I don't need a kingdom. I don't need enchanted subjects. I don't need an army of wolves to keep me safe. I just… I just need my dad."

The dam broke. The grief Greyback had been holding back for years burst through—and he cracked. Sobbed. He grabbed Ylva—and pulled her into a tight hug.

She hugged him back—crying, smiling but crying at the same time.

And the pack cheered. There was not a dry eye in the Underworld. The wolves—the victims of Greyback's grief—would be free. They held each other and wept—hopeful for their future, hopeful for the people they could become.

Sirius Black was a dreamer. He spent years fighting for a better world. This boy had lost everything and still he fought. And it wasn't his strength or wit or charm that saved him—that saved the entire world.

It was his open, loving heart.


	24. Chapter 24: Promises

Chapter Twenty-Four: Promises

_Don't need a ring for my finger. Just need a steady hand to hold._

"Sirius…" Remus came up behind him, and his touch was soft, tender. He ran a gentle hand against Sirius's neck. "You did it."

Sirius turned—with an expression of boy-like delight painted on his face. He grinned—not his usual, cocky smirk, deliciously flirtatious—but something more genuine—something real. The joy of someone who had fought hard and won—the joy of someone who had everything to lose.

"I did," Sirius said, and it was clear that he still couldn't quite believe it.

Remus grabbed his hand, joy bursting in his chest, love coursing through his veins. "You did it without fighting. You woke the pack. Sirius, you're incredible."

Sirius laughed—more from disbelief than anything. He ruffled a hand through his hair, and stared at Remus—his love, his reason for fighting, the hope he had harbored against the pressing darkness.

The king and Ylva stood in the far end of the tunnel—talking, for the first time in years, really seeing each other for the first time in decades. Both wept openly. It was like the world had shrunk around them—and nothing could stir them—not the Fated Ones, not Sirius and Remus, not the world slowly creaking awake. Greyback wouldn't turn any more people—Sirius was sure of that.

And the pack was free—completely free—at last. As Greyback's fear and rage dwindled, so too did the final tendons of the enchantment placed over them. It was an incredible sight to see the wolves come to life fully, to see the last remnants of magic fade from their eyes, to see them realize—at last—that they had reason to hope.

Sirius and Remus watched the wolves for a long while, their hands entwined in each other's pockets, their hearts beating as one.

Finally, Sirius asked, "Now what?"

Remus gave him an adoring look—one full of ferocious hope and courage. "Let's go home."

The words sparked something in him, and for the first time, Remus let himself imagine it. He could go back. Back to the world above, back to their little bedroom, back to Orpheus Coffee. Back to triple espressos and long walks under a cloudy sky. Back to early mornings and late nights, their limbs tangled under the covers, their love for each other shining like a star in the darkness. They could have it all. "Let's go right now."

Sirius barked out a surprised laugh. But Remus was serious. His eyes shone with hope, and as he realized the immensity of what laid before him, he couldn't hide his delight. Remus spun Sirius, laughing, saying, "Come on, let's go!"

Sirius let himself be taken away by the fantasy. He'd never seen Remus like this. At least not since when they first met—not since that walk along the south bank, not since Lily and James's wedding. They'd been so young then—full of naive optimism and lust.

"Okay," Sirius said, letting himself be spun, letting himself imagine the world Remus saw. "But… how will we get out?"

"The way you came," Remus said, like it was simple, like there was nothing to it. "We'll walk."

But already, Sirius could feel some of his hope dimming, some of his certainty fading. The Fated Ones had guided Remus the whole way down—he didn't know how treacherous path was without them. "It's dangerous," Sirius warned. "It took me weeks to get here."

"Who cares?" Remus pulled Sirius into a kiss, cupping his face gently in his hand. "We have all the time in the world."

And, finally, Sirius let himself hope. He let himself see. A long life with Remus by his side. No wolves to hide from—no wars to fight. They could have a house—a place of their own—with a garden and south facing windows that shone golden at dawn. They'd have friends over every Friday—James and Lily—Marlene, and even Ylva if she was up top. They could have a family.

Kids.

The thought settled in him, as sweet and fragile as spun sugar. Sirius had never let himself imagine a life beyond the wolves—a life of peace, of simple pleasures—quiet mornings, fresh baked bread, the sound of little footsteps coming down the stairs. A family, with no fighting, no expectations.

They could make the world again. Parents, who loved their kids. Brothers, who had no need to abandon each other.

Sirius had never let himself imagine such a life.

But now that he did, the image held him in its grasp.

He wanted it.

He wanted it more than he had ever known.

"I've never lived without a battle to fight," Sirius said. "I don't even know what our life will look like together."

"Me neither," Remus said. "I've spent my whole life on the run. You're the only family I have ever had."

"I don't know if I can keep the promises I made… all those months ago," Sirius finally admitted. And a shadow of shame fell over his face. "I said I could protect you. I said I would never let you get hurt. But I already failed—"

"We were both doing our best," Remus said. "I don't need someone to keep me safe from the world. I just need someone to stand with me—someone to love me. Someone who promises to stick with me—even when times are hard. Even…" Remus faltered, his eyes flickering. "Even when I become a wolf every full moon."

Of course.

How had Sirius forgotten?

Greyback's enchantment may have lifted, but the curse of the werewolf was for life. It didn't matter where they went, or how free they were—Remus would turn every month like clockwork.

Sirius took a deep breath.

What was a little lycanthropy in the grand scheme of things? Remus was the great love of his life. The full moons they could handle. Remus would have to do a lot worse than turn into a hungry beast once a month to make Sirius leave.

"I can do that." Sirius searched his lover's face. "I can't promise to be perfect—I can't promise I will never make a mistake. But I can promise I'll never turn my back on you."

Remus tucked a stray hair behind Sirius's ear. "And I will never leave you," he said. "I'll be right behind you our entire lives."

They kissed again—and both felt a sharp edge of hunger settle into them. Remus tangled a hadn't in Sirius's hair and Sirius inhaled sharply, goosebumps scattering across his neck. He'd been so terrified of losing Remus that he hadn't let himself feel his bone-deep hunger for him. But now it was back—and it was all he could do to keep himself from taking Remus right then and there.

"How are we going to get out of here?" he asked.

"We'll ask. Ylva will help us," Remus said. "Greyback too, I bet. Just look at him."

Sirius did—and he believed Remus. The king was besotted, unfurled. He laughed with his daughter, his eyes shining. His heart had opened for the first time in decades—how could he close it again now?

"And what about the wolves?" Sirius asked. "They deserve to be free too."

They will be," said Remus confidently. "We can lead the way. If Greyback banishes the Fated Ones, he won't be able to control the pack. They can all follow us all the up."

Sirius took in his beloved—this tough, heartbroken man—he had never believed in anyone more. He had never loved anyone more. He wanted to grow old and frail with him—he wanted to watch every sunrise and share every cup of coffee. "Do you promise to stay with me?" he asked.

Remus nodded, crying, smiling. "I do." He ran a gentle thumb over Sirius's tear-stained face. "And do you promise to stay with me?"

Sirius could hardly speak. "I do."

And that was enough.

Some people need gold and finery—some need champagne and dancing and the support of a hundred friends. But these broken and lost boys—these brave and hopeful boys—they found each other—they were devoted to each other.

And that was enough of a wedding for them.

Sirius turned to Greyback first—took Remus's hand and led him to the king.

Greyback looked less terrible now—less enormous, less powerful. He didn't look like the king of the wolves. He just looked like a man who was happy to have his daughter back.

Voice shaking, heart trembling, Sirius faced the king and asked, "Can we go?"

Every eye turned to Greyback. Sirius and Remus, of course, but also the pack—desperately praying this would be the start of a new reign. The Fated Ones looked furious—almost invisible—almost faded, though not entirely. And Ylva stared at her father, hardly daring to hope.

This would be the moment of truth—the moment he decided just what kind of king he would be.

Everyone watched him, desperate, hopeful.

And all Greyback could say was, "I don't know."


	25. Chapter 25: His Kiss, The Riot

Chapter Twenty-Five: His Kiss, The Riot

_Dangerous this jack of hearts. With his kiss, the riot starts._

It was as if the world tilted. Ylva, disgusted, shoved Greyback away from her. This had been his chance to redeem himself—his chance to prove that he could be brave and kind—his chance to do a good thing for once—to help people for once—and he _didn't know_?

She had thought his heart was healing, slowly stitching back together.

Now, she doubted if he was good enough to change.

If he was brave enough to heal.

Ylva was a vulnerable person, a sensitive person—but she was fiery and rageful too. She spat on the ground at her father's feet and backed away. "Don't speak to me until you've made a decision," she said, as she stormed down the tunnel. "The right decision."

With her gone, the Fated Ones came back into sharp relief—they were nearly solid again, their cruelty painted across their faces. And now the likeness with Ylva was terribly clear. Of course they were her phantom sisters. They wore Ylva's face—Ylva's dark eyes. They were Ylva, if she were a killer—Ylva if she were cruel.

Sirius sensed the danger like the pressure changing before a storm. He stumbled away from the king's wrath, pulling Remus with him.

And Greyback saw the destruction before him—the destruction he had caused—the stricken look on the pack's faces, the naive hope of those boys, the heckling of the Fated Ones—and he couldn't face it. The King stomped away, his hackles raised—his teeth bared.

He wasn't running, he told himself. No. He just needed time to come up with a plan. He wasn't used to being vulnerable. That boy's words had plucked some string inside him and played his heartbreak like a song, loud enough to everyone to hear.

Greyback raged, slamming a fist into the wall.

He was the king. And kings didn't mourn. Kings didn't fear.

What had Sirius Black done to him?

He pounded down the tunnels. He needed somewhere private—he needed somewhere to think. He needed…

_Ylva._

The thought came, unwelcome, unappreciated.

He needed Ylva.

"She said she'd never talk to you," crooned an all too familiar voice in his ear—and Greyback knew at once it was the Fated Ones returned, the Fated Ones terrible and vengeful.

"You're not real," Greyback growled and he pushed himself inside his flat—slammed the door in their faces—locked it three times.

But he only had half a breath of peace. At once, the Fated Ones materialized around him, their leers hungry, their eyes shining with malice.

For this was their terrible power—they could see inside your soul—they knew your every fear because they _were_ your every fear. They were the doubt creeping up the back of your mind. And once you let them in, it was no small task to get them out.

"You can't outrun us, Greyback," said the Tall One.

"You cannot hide."

"We're the poison in your heart and the darkness in your blood."

"You made us."

"You can't get rid of us that quickly."

Greyback lashed out at them—his great claws bared—but right where he should have struck, his hand met only air.

"You have no weapons against us, King," said the Small One—and Greyback saw that it was true. They _were_ his weapons. He'd made them out of fear and grief.

And now his grief was back to bite him.

Greyback paced around his kitchen like a wounded animal. How could he win this? How could he defeat his shadows? And, even if he did, what then did he want?

Ylva—the answer was clear as moonlight. He wanted his daughter safe and happy. He wanted the closeness they'd had when she was a cub. What need did he have for a kingdom? What good were a thousand subjects?

He just wanted his child back.

He turned to the Fated Ones—and saw them for what they were—his love rotted, the good he'd tried to do turned sour and evil. Desperately, he asked, "What do you want?"

The Fated Ones leered.

"We want you to make a decision," said the Broad One.

"The _right_ decision," said the Small One.

"I don't know what that is," Greyback admitted. And for once, he didn't sound enraged or terrible. He didn't sound like a king. He was just a man—lost in the dark. He was as broken as Sirius and Remus—as scared as the pack he'd enslaved.

"Well…" The Fated Ones moved in, preparing for the attack. "What will happen if you don't let them leave?"

Greyback could see it clearly. He'd ruled these two decades in fear—breaking his subjects to rob them of power—making them feel small to make himself big. But times had changed. Sirius had woken the pack, and there was no going back now.

"Riots. Rebellion," Greyback said. After all, the Fated Ones had lost their power to enchant. Now that everybody saw them for what they were, what power could they hold? Greyback couldn't subdue his people on his own—he needed the Fated One's magic to stop a riot. Without it…

Nobody would be safe. The wolves wouldn't stand for it, if Greyback didn't let the boys go. And if they rioted, what then? Greyback was strong—but there were hundreds of people he'd turned. Alone, he wouldn't be able to defend himself. He wouldn't be able to protect Ylva.

"They'd make martyrs out of those boys," said the Broad One.

"They're more powerful dead than alive," said the Tall One.

"You can't keep them here."

And Greyback saw that it was true.

"But what will happen," the Small One continued, relentless, "if you let them go?"

It wasn't hard to imagine. He'd be seen as spineless, boneless. The reign he'd spent so long building would crumble in his hands. The pack would see just how little power he had. They would turn away from him. And a king who let anyone leave was no king at all.

Greyback growled with frustration.

He hated being backed into a corner. Being made to feel weak. How could he get out of this?

He had told that boy the consequence of losing the fight—and hadn't the boy lost? And hadn't he, Greyback, won?

Sirius Black was moments from death when he had turned the tables on him. He'd changed the game. And that was not their bargain. That was not the same thing as winning.

He could kill the boy—and his lover for good measure—put the whole sad story behind him.

But Ylva would never speak to him again. The pack would never stand for it. He would lose his child and his kingdom in one fell swoop.

And it was all those boys' fault.

"What are you going to do?" whispered the Fated Ones.

"Imposter king."

"Weak and vulnerable."

"Nobody wants a king who can't protect them."

"Nobody wants a king who lets his children die."

"ENOUGH!" Greyback spun at them—and his face was terrible—his eyes burning white hot with clarity. He stalked forward—hoping to intimidate the Fated Ones—these devils of his own mind. But they wouldn't back down.

The Small One stared right up at him, her smug expression grating and deeply familiar. The Tall One had her arms crossed, her lips drawn tight into a frown. The Broad One jutted her chin out, defiant, angry.

They were just like his boys. They had been impossible, a handful. Always breaking rules, always pushing against him. They were just like wolves should be. He had loved them. And he had lost them.

And then he had created these phantoms in their image.

Greyback stared at the Fated Ones and forced himself to see them for what they truly were. His own cruelty—his own fear—his own broken heart made flesh. He had lost his three sons—his beloved, beautiful sons—and he had made these monsters in their place.

But his sons were better than this.

Ylva was better than this.

The only person as terrible as the Fated Ones was himself.

And then Greyback spoke, his voice soft and steady. "You have no power over me."

"Oh really?" asked the Small One. "But you can't hurt us."

"You can't touch us."

"You can't fight us off."

"No," Greyback agreed. "I cannot. But I can stop believing in you."

And he stepped away from them—and for once, he did not try to make himself look strong or terrible. For once, he had nothing to prove. "I made you out of grief—I made you so I wouldn't have to feel. So nobody would have to feel."

Greyback swung open his liquor cabinet, stuffed with Ylva's vodka and pilfered whiskey. "But that is not what I want anymore."

The bottles clattered as he pulled them out, one after another. There were so many of them, all lined up like shining grenades. There was so much that Ylva had been hiding.

"What are you doing?" the Small One asked, fear crossing her face for the first time.

"I'm making a decision. The right decision."

Greyback opened bottle after bottle. The sharp smell of ethanol filled the kitchen, sticky and sterile. "I am going to feel the pain I've been running from. Ylva is going to feel it too. We are going to grieve and mourn and feel it all."

And, one by one, Greyback poured every bottle down the drain. "I will never listen to you again. Do you hear me?"

And, in a flash, rage coursed threw him. The Fated Ones had ruined his life, had ruined his child. They had made Ylva turn to alcohol instead of him, shut off and alone, drinking herself into a stupor every night.

It was their fault.

It was his fault.

Greyback roared and threw one of empty bottles across the kitchen. It smashed into the wall. "You are not welcome in the Underworld," he snarled. "You are banished." He threw another bottle. And the glass shattered in an explosion of noise. "Now get out."

And—gradually—almost imperceptibly—the Fated Ones faded. Their terrible leers fixed on their faces, they grew thin, evanescent—and eventually, after a long while—they disappeared.

Greyback stood, staring at the place where they had just been. He panted as the adrenaline faded from his limbs. The empty bottles rolled on the counter around him.

I thought he would go back out to join his people, but after a long moment, he turned back to the kitchen instead. To the pile of empty liquor bottles and shattered glass. Then, he called out, "Regulus Black, I know you are watching this."

Sheepishly, I appeared from where I had been hiding.

Greyback couldn't meet my eye. "You think they're gone for good?"

"I… don't know," I said. "They fed on the despair of this world for a long time. If someone still believes them—maybe a thread of their cruelty will remain. Maybe it will tether them here."

Greyback looked at me and held my gaze, steady. "I will never believe them again," he said.

"No." That much was clear. "And because of that, they'll never be as strong. But maybe they'll still be a whisper in someone's ear, a shard of ice in their heart. It will take a long time for their terror to be forgotten."

Greyback didn't respond. I was too afraid to speak. I wanted to petition for Sirius and Remus's freedom—but I was afraid that if I pushed too hard, he would only push back.

Greyback ran a tired hand over his face, and vanished all the empty liquor bottles, all the broken glass.

Finally, after a long silence, he said, "Here is my plan for your brother. That's why you were here, no?"

"Yes." There was no point in lying.

"They can go," Greyback said—then paused. And I knew in the deadliness of that pause that something more was coming—something terrible and powerful. "I will let them leave—but only under one condition."

Then Greyback told me the rest of his plan—and my heart swelled with hope and despair at the trial these boys had to endure.

"So," Greyback said one he was done, peering at me with a sharp eye. "Do you think they can do it?"

And I could only be honest. Fear struck me, doubt filled me all the way up. But I knew Sirius was strong, that he carried a torch of faith against the darkness. I looked at the king in his desperate, broken hope, and said, "I don't know."


	26. Chapter 26: Wait For Me (Reprise)

Chapter Twenty-Six: Wait for Me (Reprise)

_I'll tell you where the real road lies—between your ears, behind your eyes._

When I emerged into the central tunnel, everyone was waiting for me. Sirius and Remus—their faces pale and hands clutched tight together. Ylva—angry, fuming, trying to cover her brittle, broken heart with fire. The pack—breathless. Their fate hung in such a fine balance.

They all stood in silence—as though praying, as though mourning—and watched me glide in.

Finally, Sirius asked, "What did he decide?"

I looked at my brother and felt my heart breaking for the trial that lay ahead of him. For the doubts and fears—and the sharp, stabbing hope. How could I break him the news? How could I look at that face I loved so much and tell him what was ahead? "It's complicated," I said.

Sirius went pale.

It was Remus who spoke, his voice shaking. "What is it?"

"You can go," I began, and before I could finish my sentence, I was cut off by an eruption of cheers from the pack. The wolves would finally, _finally_ get their chance at freedom. Remus grabbed Sirius—pulled him into a hug, laughing—but it was Sirius who knew there was more to the story. He looked at me and said, "What is the complicated part?"

I smiled grimly. "You can walk out of here—but you cannot have my help. The moment you pass through those gates, you will be on your own."

"That's okay," Remus said bracingly. "Sirius knows the way. We'll have each other."

"But that's exactly it…" I said, wishing I didn't have to. "You won't."

A long pause filled the tunnel. The pack seemed to deflate, their joy darkening, their hope dimming.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked.

"It's a charm. The only condition Greyback has for you leaving. You can go, but must walk in single file," I explained. "Sirius, you in front—and Remus, you behind—"

"Why?"

"And if you turn around, Sirius—listen to me." I needed him to understand this, to see that his future hung in a fine balance, that he had the power to create the life he wanted.

Or destroy it.

"You have to walk all the way back home and you cannot look back. Not once. Not for a second. If you turn around to double check that Remus is there, the charm will break. Greyback will know—and Remus will get pulled back. All the way back to the Underworld. If you turn around, you'll never be able to see him again."

Sirius didn't not seem to be processing this. His eyes flickered with confusion—with grief—with seedlings of doubt. Where was that confident boy I'd known? Where was that reckless man?

It was Remus who spoke, Remus whose anger burned white hot. "But why?"

How could I explain? How could they understand what it was like in Greyback's heart? The decades of isolation—the fear and desperate longing. He was not a simple man. For him, everything had a price. And as his heart cracked open, as his grief and fear and pain came rushing to the surface, he wanted to give Sirius and Remus their life together. He really did.

They just had to earn it.

"He's a complicated man," I said. "He can't let this be easy. You can't just walk out. He can't just _give_ it do you."

Sirius—dark and suspicious—said, "He's tricking us. He is going to keep Remus here. He wants me to leave alone."

"He's not," I said heavily.

"What if it's a trap?"

"It's not a trap," I said and as I spoke, a bone deep weariness fell over me—like I'd seen this all before—like I'd explained this more times than I could count. The world felt small and endless then. Like a marble in the great, ambivalent hand of the universe. Like a child's toy that got wound and unspooled, forcing us to play the same stories over and over again. Would anything I say make Sirius believe me? "It's a trial."

"But—"

"You need trust to get through this," I said. "You _can_ get through it. I know you can. But you need to have faith. You cannot doubt, even for a glimmer of a second."

"But Greyback—"

"This isn't about Greyback," I said, impatient. "It's about you." I jabbed my finger at Sirius's chest. How could I make him understand? He had the power to get them home. He had the power to give them the life they both deserved.

"Sirius," Remus said, his voice low. He twined their fingers together, brushed a stray hair off his cheek. "We can do this."

"But what if—"

"There are no ifs," Remus said softly. He held Sirius's gaze, his eyes endless. "We have to try. I believe in you. And I know you believe in me. It's just a walk. A long road, one last battle to fight. I know we can do this."

Sirius's eyes flickered. He searched for strength in Remus's gaze and found it, found the steady source of love and faith. "Okay," he said, then turned to me. "Okay."

"You have to trust each other," I said. "You have to trust yourselves. Can you do that?"

"Yes." They spoke as one—their hearts in rhythm—their faith entwining.

"You're going to have to prove your way," I said. "Prove yourself before wolves and men."

"We can do it," they said, their hands squeezed together, their eyes clear.

I looked at these two boys, their love a shining beacon between them, their faith heavy and solid as warm earth, as cool metal.

"Then that's all there is to it," I said, even though it wasn't true. A long road lay ahead of them—a dangerous road—one full of monsters and traps. "It's time to go."

Ylva ran up to them first, pulling them into a ferociously tight hug. "I"ll see you again," she said, and when she pulled away, they saw her eyes shone with tears. "Thank you."

And she stepped aside to give the pack time to say goodbye.

* * *

Ylva didn't turn around as she left the central tunnels, following the meandering path back to her father's apartment. Her apartment. The home they'd built together. Her face was wet with tears, but for once she didn't wipe them away—for once, she didn't have to hide them.

"Dad." She pushed the door open to their flat to find him, crouched against the kitchen counter, the tang of alcohol burning in the air. Had he gotten drunk? But when she looked at him, she saw nothing but bright determination. His eyes and his heart were clear.

Ylva glanced the liquor cabinet. It was empty—at once she realized what he had done.

Greyback looked at her—and he was crying too—free for the first time in decades—free from the strain of the Fated Ones, free from shame. "Come here," he said.

She rushed to him and let him pull her into a hug. And for a moment, she felt like the little girl she'd been, afraid, alone, wishing for her father's comfort.

A sob wrenched through her.

"It's okay," Greyback said, holding her tighter—and it _was_ okay. She was safe. She had her father and her home. She had people who loved her and a safe place to feel twenty years of grief. Ylva cried in his arms for a long time—and though he made no noise, by the slow drip of tears on her forehead, Ylva knew that her father was crying too.

Finally, after a long while, Ylva said, "You let them go." And her voice was so brimming with love, it almost hurt to hear.

"I gave them a chance," Greyback said. "They have to earn it. They have to prove that they're willing to fight for each other."

"And us?" Ylva asked. "Do we have to prove it?"

Greyback gave her a sad smile. "You already have. I'm the one who has to make amends." He took a breath, his eyes flickering. "That starts today. You can go up to meet them up top if you want. Once they complete the trial."

"I will… eventually," Ylva said. "For now, I want to stay here. With you."

* * *

Sirius and Remus stood at the edge of the tunnels. The path stretched long ahead of them. The pack stood behind them, quiet, supportive—praying these boys made it. Praying that they could lead the way to everyone's freedom.

"It's a long road ahead of you," I told them—but I was talking to Sirius alone. Remus I did not doubt. Remus I knew would not fail. He'd already lost everything—he was not going to lose it again.

"I know the way," Sirius said, but I cut him off.

"Not that road," I said. "Darkness and monsters—that's nothing compared to what's ahead of you. I'm talking about the real trial. The real wolves. Werewolves and kings are one thing—but the real monsters are the ones in your head. The real journey is in your own heart. Sirius."

He looked at me and for the briefest flash, I saw his fear. It flickered like a shadow behind his eyes, before disappearing, before his strength and hope swallowed it up.

But it troubled me. I must admit, I was afraid for them. Where had his doubt come from? He'd always been so brave—so reckless. Why—now—was he suddenly afraid?

"Doubt is deadly," I warned him. "Don't let it in. Keep going forward. And never look back."

Sirius nodded. Then turned to Remus one last time—before they'd have to leave, before they would have nothing to hold onto but their trust.

Tenderly, Remus ran a hand through Sirius's hair. He squeezed his callused hand. "We can do this," he said, then he kissed him. A lifetime's worth of love went into that kiss—every hope and fantasy for their future together. When Remus finally pulled away, he gave Sirius a steady smile. "I love you."

"I love you," Sirius said.

"I trust you."

"I trust you."

Remus kissed him again. "Then lead the way," he whispered. "I'll be behind you—I promise. I'll be there the whole time."

And Sirius took one long last look at his beloved—drinking in his features, to hold like a torch in the long night ahead of them.

Then—he turned away—and led the way into the darkness.


	27. Chapter 27: Doubt Comes In

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Doubt Comes In

_I used to see the way the world could be. But now the way it is is all I see._

I couldn't help them. I couldn't guide them.

After spending years as a ghost, silent, forgotten, alone—I had finally found my power—but now I had to give it all back up. I could do nothing but watch. Unseen. Unheard.

Sirius and Remus stepped out of the Underworld and into the unknown.

Sirius, brave and wary, in front.

Remus, silent, behind.

They had walk of their lives ahead of them.

And I could only watch.

Sirius led the way, guided by stark wand light. The tunnels were bare—silent. Not even an echo kept him company. The walls curved slightly inward—dark, dank water dripping down the sides. Stale air. A reek of heavy magic and loss. The night swallowed what little light they had—and Sirius could only see a few feet ahead of him at a time.

They walked in silence for a long time—with only his footsteps breaking the crushing quiet. And slowly, the question grew in Sirius's mind—unfurling like a tendril of poison in water.

If Remus was truly there, wouldn't he be able to hear him?

No. Sirius shook his head to clear it. He remembered what I told him right before leaving. _Doubt is deadly Don't let it in. _

He walked on.

I wish I could have told him how proud I was of him. I wish I could have shown him the lives he had changed. Not just Remus's, but the pack's too—and the thousands of humans who no longer had to fear Greyback's retribution.

Behind him, Remus's eyes glowed with love. He moved as silent as a ghost—but he was there—brimming with his hope and pride in his beloved. Couldn't Sirius feel it? I could hear Remus's devotion in his heartbeat, in his steady pulse, sure and free.

_Sirius, I am here. I will be here until the very end._

Whether Sirius could feel it or not, I didn't know. He was cast in shadow, face hard with determination.

They walked on.

I floated in the walls near them—never making myself visible—never letting myself be seen. But I had to know—I had to see. I prayed silently for Sirius to make it.

And they walked on.

_Doubt is deadly. Don't let it in._

And then—in the corner of my eye—I saw something. I barely withheld a gasp. Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the apparitions before him.

The Fated Ones—sharp and terrible. They were different now—ghostlike and transparent, a mere shadow of their former selves. Their faces were different too—not echoing Ylva's likeness—but someone else. Someone scarred with endless eyes and a melancholy smile.

"Remus," Sirius breathed.

And then I saw it. They wore Remus's face.

Of course they did.

Just as Greyback had created the Fated Ones out of his grief and desire to protect Ylva—here they were projected Sirius's darkest phantoms—his greatest fear.

Sirius froze in his tracks. Remus only barely missed bumping into him—muffling his own gasp. He couldn't let Sirius hear him. He couldn't break the charm.

And as the Fated Ones closed in, Remus drew back, hidden deeper in the shadows.

"You're not real," Sirius said—but even I could hear his voice was shaking. "You have no power over me."

"We don't?" the Fated Ones asked. It was horrible to hear their voices come out of Remus's mouth, their cruelty distort his kindness.

"What are you doing here all alone?" asked the Small One.

"I'm not alone."

"You're not? News to us."

"I'm not," Sirius said again, louder this time, but the Fated Ones only laughed.

"Who do you think you are, Sirius Black?" asked the Broad One. "Why would anyone follow you anywhere?"

"Why would Remus Lupin trust you?"

"He trusts me," Sirius said, his jaw set, his eyes wide and fearful. "He said so."

"People lie."

"Not Remus." Sirius stepped forward, brandishing his wand at them. "Remus wouldn't lie to me."

Reader, I don't know how the Fated Ones found him.

I don't know how they still survived. I had hoped that Greyback's faith and love would drive them away for good—I had hoped they would die along with his fear. They were, after all, his creations.

But our beliefs and deeds have lives beyond ourselves. Sirius is proof of that. He came to the Underworld on the wings of love, with nothing but a desperate hope in his pocket. And with that—and that alone—he changed the world.

Greyback's fear had changed the world too. It's not so easy to undo our mistakes. It's often not possible at all.

The Fated Ones had found a life of their own, feeding in the belly of the Underworld, whispering dark secrets into people's ears. As long as anyone harbored their shame, locked it in a case like a jewel and let it fester, the Fates Ones had a tether to this world.

Sirius had begun to doubt.

And his doubt had called the Fated Ones to him.

His doubt made them his monsters.

_Don't let it in. Doubt is deadly._

But it was too late. It had already taken root and a sapling was sprouting at his feet.

He had to outpace it. Stomp it down as much as he could—and then rush to get back home—rush to complete his trial—rush to free himself and Remus and earn them their life together. If he was fast, if he was daring, if he was brave—maybe he could do it.

"I don't believe you," Sirius told the Fated Ones, speaking loudly. His voice echoed down the tunnels—and it was almost like having a family there. It was almost like having Remus. "You are ghosts made of darkness. You were created by a terrified man—and all you do is spread that terror. You never tell the truth."

And with that, Sirius pushed past them, trundling deep into the shadows.

The Fated Ones did not follow. They knew they didn't have to. And when Remus passed, just moments later—Sirius's silent shadow—they gave him a nasty, ominous smile.

Sirius plunged forward. He wouldn't doubt. He wouldn't fear.

_Don't let it in. Doubt is deadly_.

Greyback had changed, Sirius told himself as he walked on. The tunnel became an incline—and he started climbing, steadily. Greyback had been moved—he had been freed from the trauma and the rage he'd been clutching. He loved Ylva. He had wanted to do the right thing. When he set the charm, he did it in good faith. He had let them go. In his own way, he had tried to let them go.

But… said a deadly voice in Sirius's mind. If the king had wanted to do the right thing, why hold a trial at all? Why go through the trouble of casting a spell, of making them walk, of not letting him turn around.

Why not just let them go?

Sirius panted as the climb became steeper. He only heard his own breath in the darkness—and a heightened awareness creaked over him. His hair stood on edge, and he could hear every footfall, every blinking eyelash. If Remus was really there, wouldn't he be able to hear him too?

What if Greyback was tricking him?

The thought was almost too much to bear—and Sirius found himself wracked with fear—afraid in a way that he—reckless, brave—had never once experienced. What if this was all a ploy to get Sirius out of the way—and Remus was still down there, helpless and alone?

Sirius was a dreamer. He fought for a better world—had sacrificed everything to build a future. He'd never had trouble believing in hope—he'd never had trouble looking on the bright side.

But now, he could only see darkness.

What if Remus wasn't there? What if he'd been tricked? What if he got all the way back up to the world above and found out he was alone?

_No_. Sirius pushed forward. He had to keep walking. He had to keep faith. The doubt grew steady, a tree heavy with poisonous apples. At this stage, all he could do was outrun it.

He would not turn around. He would not lose faith. He would keep walking.

And they were close now—the air was fresher—the crushing darkness turning a steel grey as light from above crept in.

Remus followed—silent, faithful. He trusted Sirius. He knew he could do it. Remus beamed his heart forward, hoping Sirius could feel it. Feel his unwavering faith and love. Hear the prayer of his pulse.

_Sirius, I am here_.

The light was changing. Just a few meters separated them from the world above—from their freedom—from their long lives together. Sunlight danced at the entrance of the tunnel and Remus longed to feel it on his skin.

They were so close. They were going to make it.

_Sirius, I am here. I have been here all along. You are not alone._

Only a few feet now.

Remus's heart was burning with hope—burning with pride. They would be free. They would have a life together, grow old together.

Sirius took one more step. They were a breath from freedom—so close Remus could taste it—so near the hope crackled like magic and love through the air.

And then—

And then—

And then—

Sirius turned around.

Silence.

Despair.

Our lives can change in a moment. Suns blinked out. Planets lost. All of the stars in all the galaxy going dark, one by one.

Remus and Sirius stared at each other for a long moment, shock on both their faces—grief rising up in them like a tide.

The charm had broken.

There was nothing either of them could do.

"It's you," Sirius finally said, his voice shattered. His heart bled freely on his sleeve. His eyes swam in regret.

How could he have doubted? How could he not have known that Remus would be there—that he would always, always be there?

Remus could hardly speak. Sorrow choked him. The Underworld's despair rushed back to him at once, dark and poisonous, crushing monotony. This was the end of his road. He would never make it back above. He would never have his long life with Sirius.

"It's me," Remus finally said. Tears fell freely, grief pouring out of him.

They would not get their life together. They would not grow old together. All those bitter coffees—those speckled sunsets—the Friday nights at the pub, laughing and slapping their thighs—the bite firewhiskey and bubbling champagne—their cozy little bedroom—the morning light in Orpheus Coffee—the family they'd built—all lost.

Sirius had turned around—he had broken the charm.

This was the end of their love story. A shared, shattered glance. Regret, a river flooding between them. It was too late to forge it. It was too late to make amends.

They would never see each other again.

"Sirius," Remus said.

Sirius wept—regret—grief—bitter rage. But mostly love. A hollow and broken love. A desperate and empty love.

He and Remus were made for each other—the great loves of each other's lives—they were soulmates—and they would never see each other again.

"Remus…"

And then, from the darkness, came the Fated Ones—in all their horror. They emerged silently—terribly—and dragged Remus away, all the way down to the Underworld.

And these two boys—hopeful, desperately in love, fighting against all odds—would never see each other again.


	28. Chapter 28: Road to Hell (Reprise)

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Road to Hell (Reprise)

_'__Cause here's the thing: to know how it ends and still begin to sing it again—as if it might turn out this time._

I told you this was not a happy story.

I told you—there is no happily ever after.

Not for Sirius. Not for Remus.

I did warn you.

I stayed and watched over Sirius for a long time. He raged and sobbed. Fought to get back down to the Underworld, to go back to rescue his beloved, to try again and again until he either succeeded or died. But he found the way was barred.

There would be no second chances.

That, after all, was the bargain. Walk all the way up to the world above—with no help or guidance—walk through a forest of your own doubts and fears—your own aching loneliness—and to not look back.

Sirius looked back.

He failed.

That is how the story goes.

I told you before—I am a mere ghost. There is only so much I can do. To watch and listen, to feel and fear—but have no power to change the story—that is what it means to be a ghost.

Sirius stayed at the entrance to the Underworld for hours. The sun went down. The air hardened into a cold and brittle thing. But no wolves howled in the night—for once, the night was safe.

Sirius did that. He made a world where wolves didn't fight tooth and nail to survive—where they didn't hurt every human they could—where Greyback didn't force them to hunt and terrorize. The world was a better place for Sirius Black.

But he still wasn't able to save Remus.

"Sirius…" I floated to him, but he hardly moved. I wasn't even sure if he saw me—or if his vigil had taken him to a realm beyond hearing, beyond hope.

I couldn't leave him out here. Happy story or not, he was still my brother. "Sirius, come on. It's time to go."

Sirius looked up at me. His eyes told the whole story.

Grief is a lonely planet. We mourn together, but the bone deep ache of loss is all our own.

It would not be easy to heal from this. A loss like this—there is only so much healing possible. Sirius had found he love of his life—had fought with every ounce of courage he had to save him—and still—and still—he had lost him.

He would never see Remus again.

At least, not in this lifetime.

It was true.

Their great love story was over.

But Sirius was not alone.

No matter what mistakes he made, no matter what he lost—he would not be alone. I would make sure of it.

"Sirius," I said, my voice gentle. "You are loved."

How could I get him to believe me? Marlene and Dumbledore, Madam Marsh and Mrs. Figg—every customer at Orpheus Coffee and every wolf he freed down below.

Ylva. Me.

Remus.

No matter what happened. In any story—in any universe—Sirius Black was so deeply loved.

"Come on," I said again—and this time Sirius did not look at me—his grey eyes deep wells of sorrow.

It would take a long time to give him his spark again—my brave, reckless, beautiful brother. It would take a long time to bring him back.

And maybe he would never come back—not completely.

"Marlene will be home now," I said, and moved as if to put my hand around his shoulder—as if to comfort him, as if to hug him. I couldn't really touch him—we both knew that—but I could do my best. "I bet she'll make you a cup of tea. Come on now."

And, together, my brother and I walked into the night. Street lamps sparked to life to guide our way—golden, gilded—all the way back home.

* * *

What does it mean to be a ghost? All those moons ago, bleeding out in the Underworld, forgotten and alone—I made the choice to come back. I had been dimming, my atoms drifting apart, moving toward a great, golden light—and then I changed course.

Back.

I wanted to go back. I had something I needed to do here, on this earth. I had some task I knew could only be done by me.

So I returned. From the sweet haze of the firmament, I called myself home—my atoms reforming, my soul recentering—taking shape in something almost like my body—almost like me. But not quite.

I was a ghost. Immaterial. Nearly invisible. I had no heartbeat, no breath. I could not feel the rain on my face or smell the fog rolling off the river. I was a half thing—a forgotten thing.

And the sentence was eternal. As long as there was a planet in our galaxy, I would be tethered to it—living my ghostly existence. Stuck. Unseen. Unloved.

I had chosen to come back, knowing what it meant—knowing what I was sacrificing—knowing that I would never get the comfort of a good death. I had chosen an eternity as a ghost… for what?

It must have been important.

And now—at the end of our tale—I finally understand.

As ghosts, we cannot change stories.

But stories can change us.

I have told you this story, reader, because it is the destiny I chose for myself. To watch. To listen. To be moved. And to share with others.

It is not a happy story. It is not a story where the good guys win. It is not a story where love triumphs over all.

It is a tragedy.

But here's the thing—the most important thing: to tell the story and be moved. To hear it and feel in your bones the deep stirrings of grief, the deeper stirrings of hope. To watch it and be changed. To tell the story again and again—and each time, start afresh with a daring and reckless hope. To believe in a world that can get better. To believe in a world with happy endings.

Sirius taught me that.

So, let us go back to the beginning. Before the wolf fights, before the long journey through the Underworld, before these boys fell in love.

Let's start fresh. Start new.

Sirius Black worked in a coffee shop. He talked with his mentor, Dumbledore, bickering fondly over a triple espresso. It was early—the dawn was only just showing its first blush.

Sirius was a dreamer. A brave and reckless boy who believed in a better future. He drank his coffee and thought of the day ahead.

Then the door opened. And a stranger walked in. He was the most beautiful man Sirius had ever seen. With a melancholy smile and endless eyes.

Remus held Sirius's gaze—a soul stirring rush of love filling him.

Remember this moment, reader. Our story is long and dark and bitterly hopeful. Remember the sweet crystal moment before it all changes.

It is an old story. It is a sad story. It is a love story.

It's a story with the power to change the world.

I hope it changed you. I know it changed me.


	29. Chapter 29: We Raise Our Cups

Chapter Twenty-Nine: We Raise Our Cups

_Goodnight, brothers, goodnight._

Steam curled from the kettle in gentle spirals. Before it whistled, Ylva lifted it from the stove and poured the boiling water into two mugs. Delicate chamomile—warm and sweet. It was a far cry from her old nightcaps of spiced rum and bitter syrups. But those days were gone now.

No more liquor. No more forgetting. She faced her grief head on—brave and clear-eyed. Some days were easier than others—some days she still wanted to hide—to float on a river of forgetting and be taken away.

But she fought it. She fought it for herself and her grief—for the memories of her brothers—for her father.

And for Remus.

Once the tea had steeped, she passed a mug to him, and he nodded his thanks.

It had not been easy. Grief left the poor boy's heart sharp and shattered. Sorrow had taken root in his endless eyes—and grew tall and sturdy. A loss that anchored him to the earth, a grief that lived and breathed like a beast he fought every day.

But—with time, he could heal. Slowly. Over many full moons and many sleepless nights.

Healing and forgetting are not the same thing. Remus would never forget his love. He would never forget the hope—the beautiful life he almost had. He would never forget the moment he lost it all—Sirius, looking back—their eyes meeting—a rush of air from their lungs.

That was the end of their story.

He would never forget. But he would forgive. He already had. Instantly. Remus felt no resentment—no bitterness—just sorrow for the life they lost.

Ylva sat at the table across from him. They held their tea in their hands, the mugs warming their callused fingers.

It is an easy thing to hope in a bright world. It is an easy thing for a bird to sing at dawn, for a flower to bloom in fertile soil.

But the ones who change the world are the ones who find hope in the darkness. Birds singing by starlight—flowers growing in the cracks between cobblestones. It takes a special person to look into the bitter night—the great unknown—and see a beautiful world.

Sirius was that person.

And through his triumphs and his failures, through his doubts and endless hope, he taught Ylva and Remus that they could be that person too.

Ylva raised her mug and said, "To Sirius."

Remus gave her a sad smile. He lived now in the darkness—deep in the Underworld—away from the sunlight, away from fresh air. But no matter how lost he was, Remus always carried a silver ray of hope. A torch of faith that he held, even in the darkest of times.

His life was better for knowing Sirius. No matter how much it hurt. His life was better.

He toasted his tea with Ylva and said, "To Sirius."

The End


End file.
